


put not your trust in men or devils

by AGracefulShadow



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: (chapter 15), -Ish, Alcohol Poisoning, Alternate Universe - College/University, Body Horror, Demons, Fate & Destiny, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, Other, Supernatural - Freeform, Tags to be added, Thriller, Whump, heavily inspired by piri, implied jiyoo/suayeon, implied!!!!, this is definitely a horror story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 80,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGracefulShadow/pseuds/AGracefulShadow
Summary: the moment i close my eyes, it's black / i'm left all aloneIt was supposed to be a fun night out. They were supposed to have a few drinks, hit the town, have fun with Handong before she returns to Wuhan for two weeks.It wasn't supposed to end like this.It was never supposed to end like this.
Comments: 93
Kudos: 74





	1. trap that tightens around me

**Author's Note:**

> i've like, never written rpf before, and this is new territory for me. but i had this idea and i had to get it out there, so here we are. 
> 
> psychologists would have a field day with my brain. 
> 
> new special interest? must d e s t r o y 
> 
> stream boca ig lol

Either it’s raining really hard, or Gahyeon’s _already_ that drunk, but there is something affecting her vision. The colorful city lights blur together; faces are little more than flesh colored blobs, impossible to tell apart. Her limbs feel detached from her body. Her head feels submerged in a fishbowl. 

“...Get her to the car,” someone says. Their voice is muffled, but familiar. 

Gahyeon swivels her head around towards the voice, but isn’t helpful. She squints at the amorphous face in front of her. “Hmm…?” she says, stretching her hand out. “Whuzzat?”

"She’s not good,” says the shape in front of her. “Gahyeon…? Can you hear me?” 

The voice sounds very familiar now. Yoobin, presumably, puts her hand on Gahyeon’s and squeeze. “What’s up, unnie?” Gahyeon chirps with a stupid grin on her face. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Yoobin says. She lifts up a hand, or at least it presumably is a hand. It looks like she’s wearing mittens. 

Gahyeon screws up her face. “Seven?” she guesses, then shakes her head. “No, no, wait. Five?” She giggles and lifts up her own hand. “How about me?” 

Yoobin doesn’t respond. Gahyeon weaves back and forth impatiently. “Maybe I should get her home,” she says. "This is… not good."

"I'm fine," Gahyeon protests, and she takes a step towards Yoobin. Her legs nearly slip out from under her. "Whoops-"

The first person who spoke - Minji, definitely Minji - sighs. "You're right. Shit. How did this happen? We watched the drinks."

_How did what happen?_ Gahyeon thinks. _All I had was a drink._ She tries to take another step, but the ground isn't beneath her foot, and with a lack of grace unbefitting a musical theatre major, she plummets to the ground. She doesn't even try to catch herself; by the time she's registered that she's falling, she's already been caught by Yoobin. "Whoops," Gahyeon chirps, and giggles into her friend's shoulder. "Where'd the ground go?"

"Excellent question," Yoobin mumbles, maybe. Gahyeon genuinely can't tell what she's saying. She could have said anything in the world. "Siyeon, do you want to come with us? That way you can drive back. And we don’t have to leave her alone.” 

"Where're we going, Yoobin?" Gahyeon asks, leaning her head against her shoulder. "Yoobin. Yoob." She laughs. "That's fun to say. Yoob."

Another blurry figure joins the ones surrounding her, and this one speaks. "Relax, Minji," they - Siyeon? - say. "I'll bring the car back with me, promise." Then, she turns and walks out of sight. 

Minji mumbles something that is swallowed by the fishbowl around Gahyeon’s ears. Gahyeon ignores it and pokes a finger into Yoobin's shoulder. "You didn't answer the _ques_ tion," she slurs. "Where are we _going_?" She leans even more heavily on her friend and begins to slip once more. 

Yoobin readjusts her grip so Gahyeon finds it easier to stand upright. “We are going _home_ ,” she says. “Ow.”

“Aw.” Gahyeon pouts. “But the night just started…!” 

“Not for you,” Yoobin replies. 

The younger girl tilts her head up and stares at her. Yoobin doesn’t _seem_ mad. If anything, she looks concerned, which is weird, because they’ve gotten drunk together before. “Did I do something wrong?” she asks, drawing her eyebrows together. 

“No,” Yoobin says, and she pats Gahyeon’s shoulder. 

“But someone did,” Minji says. She presses her hands to the side of her head. 

By this point, there are more blobs surrounding them. Gahyeon tries to guess which one’s which before they can speak. Somehow, she manages to get them wrong. “Is everything alright?” Yoohyeon’s voice says from the body Gahyeon had guessed was Handong. Their faces are just flesh colored shapes. 

Minji shakes her head. 

Handong speaks from Bora-Blob’s body. “Oh, no,” is all she says. 

"It’s a good thing we got outta that bar,” Bora says. 

Gahyeon tries to push herself away from Yoobin and stand on her own. “Guys, I’m _fine_ ,” she slurs, and then she flashes a double thumbs up. “You’re the ones who’re blurry.” She grins and takes a step forward. And misses. 

This time, no one catches her. Concrete and pebbles bite into her arms. “Owie,” she says, without rising. She feels a hand on her back, then _many_ hands, and then she’s being pulled upright. She blearily blinks up at her friends, swinging her gaze from form to form. “I missed the ground again.” 

Yoobin sits next to her and shrugs her black-and-white flannel off. Potentially-Bora puts her hand on Gahyeon’s shoulder. “Well, you’ll be home soon,” she says, with a sort of laugh. “That means you can at least lie down.” 

Yoobin drapes the flannel over Gahyeon and leans back. “You need the padding more than me,” she says. Instinctively, Gahyeon grabs the hem and holds it tighter around her, like she’s wearing a cloak. She glances down at her arms, which are scraped up and dotted with pebbles. Unsurprisingly, her tank top did absolutely nothing for her. She giggles. 

The car rolls up, its tires scraping on the road. Gahyeon squints at it without recognizing it at first; eventually, Yoobin stands. “Are you gonna come back, or should we all go home?” Yoohyeon asks from somewhere behind everyone. 

“I’m staying with her,” Yoobin says, with a lopsided shrug. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night, anyway.” 

“We still have to get dinner,” More-Than-Likely-Bora says. “We got outta there as soon as we could, before our food even got there.” 

Minji tilts her head. “Maybe we should just grab takeout or something on the way home.”

“ _Please_ , let’s not.” Siyeon’s voice is difficult to makeout. “McDomnalds makes me wuuh.” 

That was _definitely_ not right. Gahyeon shakes her head to try and clear it. 

“I second that,” This-One’s-Clearly-Bora says. “Last time we did _that_ …”

The rest of her sentence is unintelligible gibberish. Gahyeon shakes her head again. When she opens her eyes, the world has tilted sharply to the left. Maybe she’s not okay after all. She shivers and clutches Yoobin’s flannel tighter around her. 

“....Decide and come back,” Yoobin says. She glances at Gahyeon, then does a double take, presumably; her entire body is blurring in and out of focus, and little details are getting easier and easier to miss. “We need to get going _now._ ”

Gahyeon opens her mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a little moan. The world’s begun to spin, rapidly. She holds her hand out, and three different hands come out to grab it. She gratefully falls into them. 

Someone is speaking, but their words are getting buried. Then many people are speaking, and there’s too much happening at once. Gahyeon finds herself being guided towards the car by someone. She watches the door open. She stares at it. 

“Up you go,” Yoobin says, and this is loud and clear. Gahyeon doesn’t register sliding into the car until she’s in it, and then Yoobin is next to her and the door is shut. 

“How much did I drink?” she slurs. She is stretched out in the backseat, leaning awkwardly against Yoobin’s side. She can’t reach the seatbelt. She doesn’t want to move anymore. Yoobin lifts her arm and lets Gahyeon rest her head on her lap. 

"You did nothing, I think,” Siyeon mumbles. 

The car is moving. Gayheon can see the streetlights through the window moving and shifting. “I don’t know how this happened,” Yoobin says. “Did you see anything, Siyeon?”

“I was busy with Bora on the other side of the bar. Didn’t notice anything. You want the radio on?”

Gahyeon shakes her head. “No, thanks,” she says. The light leaking through the windows is hurting her eyes. She presses her hand against them. 

“I didn’t see anything, either,” Yoobin says. She runs her fingers through Gahyeon’s hair. “Gahyeon, do you remember anything?”

The distraught one shakes her head. Admittedly, her mind is not very clear right now. She remembers walking into the bar, sandwiched between Bora and Siyeon; she remembers sitting down next to Yoohyeon and Minji; she remembers the bartender complimenting her hair; and then she remembers nothing but plunging into the fishbowl and losing track of herself. “He was kinda cute,” she mumbles, before she’s really thinking. 

“Who?” Yoobin asks. “The bartender?” 

There’s a noise of disapproval from the front seat. “You need better taste,” Siyeon says. 

The turn signal clicks on. It echoes in her brain. Gahyeon whimpers.

“He had an… Interesting face,” Yoobin says. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Agree to disagree.”

The car bounces over a pothole, almost throwing Gahyeon out of the seat. She squeaks and flails her arm out, grabbing a hold of Yoobin’s seat belt. Or the strap of her shirt. She can’t quite tell. “Whoa!” Yoobin yells, and then she’s holding onto Gahyeon’s stomach. “You have to sit up.”

“You have to drive better,” Gahyeon mumbles. She half rolls back on the seat and makes no effort to get up.

Yoobin sighs and helps the other girl upright, rearranging her limbs like she’s a doll on a shelf. “Whether or not the bartender is cute doesn’t help us figure out what’s going on,” she says. She leans over and pulls the seatbelt across Gahyeon’s body. “Do you remember what you had to drink?” 

Gahyeon tries to shrug and instead just flops over so that she’s once again leaning on Yoobin. “Something fruity,” she mumbles. “Your skin’s so soft…” 

Yoobin pats her hand. “That’s not helpful, either,” Siyeon says from up front. 

“Maybe we can wait until tomorrow before we interrogate her,” Yoobin says. “If she hasn’t forgotten all of this.”

Gahyeon tries to formulate a response, but the words get stuck somewhere between her brain and her mouth. 

“At least we caught it before something bad happened,” Siyeon says. The turn signal clicks on again. Gahyeon squeezes her eyes shut. 

Yoobin nods. “Something worse, at least.”

Gahyeon whimpers and clings to her friend’s arm. 

That’s the last thing anyone says for a while. The car ride drags on and on and on, longer than it felt like it had taken to get to the bar. Maybe it’s just the fishbowl, distorting time _and_ space. Every moment that passes feels longer and longer; every heartbeat feels slower and slower; every breath sends her spinning somewhere out into a different dimension. Her body is no longer her own. Her brain has switched off. Her soul is lifting from her flesh. 

And then the car screeches to a halt, and she lurches forward, as does her stomach. Suddenly she is once more present in her body, and her head is spinning and her limbs are shaking and she hopes she can get out of the car before losing what little she managed to eat before going out that night all over the nice interior of Siyeon’s SUV. 

_How much did I drink?_ she thinks yet again, as Yoobin unbuckles her seat belt for her and loops an arm around her shoulders. 

“You think you can walk?” Yoobin asks, sliding out of the seat. She tugs Gahyeon with her. Gahyeon puts her feet on the ground and staggers, her arms pinwheeling as she tries to stand up straight. “Okay. That’s a no.” 

They sort of half walk, half limp their way towards the apartments. At the stairs, they pause - Yoobin turns around for a moment, and then Gahyeon can hear the car backing out of the parking lot. “S-Sorry,” she whimpers, as they begin to get up the staircase. 

“Shh. You’re okay.” Yoobin pulls the door open and helps Gahyeon inside. “Whatever’s going on isn’t _your_ fault.”

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says, and then she blacks out. 

When she wakes up, she’s in her own bed, propped up by pillows and still in her clothing from earlier, except for her shoes. Moonlight is filtering in through the window, but the curtains are mostly closed. There’s a dish next to her on the floor that smells… not good. Her head is pounding, but at least she can see. 

She pushes herself up on her elbows, rubbing her eyes. Her alarm clock glows with red numbers - 12:15. She’s been out for a while. There’s no sound coming from anywhere. They must be asleep. 

She sits up further, and her stomach lurches. She covers her mouth with a hand, but nothing comes up besides a wave of exhaustion and pain. She moans quietly. 

“What _happened_?” she asks herself, flopping back on the bed. Try as she might, however, her memories of the past several hours are completely blank, except for getting a fruity drink from a bartender that complimented her hair. And then there is nothing but gray. 

Wait. A fruity drink. She hadn’t ordered a fruity drink. She never ordered fruity drinks. They made her stomach hurt.

Her eyes fly open in shock, and she almost throws up out of fear again. She rolls over and stares into the bucket next to her. Nothing comes up, thankfully, but she’s shaking, nonetheless. “Oh my God,” she says, her hand pressed to her mouth. “Oh, my God.” 

Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. That could be the case. She can’t remember anything, after all. Maybe the drink was just stronger than she anticipated. Maybe she got Yoohyeon’s by accident. Maybe she just hadn’t eaten enough before they went out. There has to be a logical explanation to this. 

Her hands are shaking. Except… Yoohyeon didn’t get fruity drinks either, and she’d had a big lunch that day. She should’ve been perfectly fine. 

_Breathe, Gahyeon._

She breathes in through her nose, inhales the sickly sweet stench of fruity drink laced vomit, and coughs. First, she should try to dispose of that. At least she should get help.

She slides her way to the other side of the bed and wiggles her way out of it, to avoid putting her foot in the bucket. She’s gotta get help with that, if only to let her sleep for the rest of the night. 

It’s then that she realizes just how quiet her room is. She looks at the other bed. It’s empty. Handong is not there. 

Gahyeon feels her breathing get caught in her throat again. It’s been a couple hours since they went out, and they wouldn’t just kick her home like that, right? If she were blackout drunk - or worse, drugged, but she’s ignoring that thought _for now_ \- they would take care of her, right? They were friends, right? 

_Breathe, Gahyeon._

Of course they were friends. There was probably something going on in the common room, and they just let her rest. She would want to be left alone, and she would let them alone in the same position. 

She steadies her nerves and pushes herself off the bed. Her legs are a little shaky, but she can stand. She pauses a moment to let herself breathe before continuing out of her dorm and down the hall. 

The first sign of trouble is when there’s only one light on. The second is that it’s eerily quiet. 

_Breathe, Gahyeon._

She walks out into the common area and pauses at the entryway, leaning on the door. The only person sitting there is Yoobin, who appears to be so engrossed in a book that she doesn’t notice the younger’s appearance. She’s in her pyjamas, but the fact that she’s still out here is odd. Normally she’d be asleep by now. 

Gahyeon coughs. Yoobin jumps and stares directly at her. “Oh- Oh, you’re awake,” she says, her face relaxing into something akin to a smile. “How do you feel?”

“Horrible.” Gahyeon smiles drily. “Probably better than earlier, though.” 

Yoobin laughs a little, but it just feels forced. “Oh, yes. You couldn’t walk, or talk, or see…” 

“I threw up.”

Yoobin grimaces. “You threw up quite a bit, actually,” she says. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

Gahyeon nods and walks towards the couch. “Have they gotten back yet?” 

“Nope.” The other girl inches closer to the armrest and pats the seat besides her. “They haven’t texted me for a while, either…” She picks up her phone from the coffee table in front of her and checks it. 

That’s worrying. Gahyeon sits down and tries to read off the phone, and Yoobin lets her see. “Something came up,” she reads aloud. 

"And that was an hour ago.” Yoobin sighs and puts the phone down. “No one answered any of my texts, except Yoohyeon, and that’s all she said. It’s… Well, here I am.” She laughs and lifts up the book. “Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us,” Gahyeon mutters. 

“Mm.”

Yoobin returns to looking at her book and Gahyeon stares at the TV. It’s on, but muted, on some animal program. She scoops the remote up and turns it on. “Tonight’s just been weird,” she says again, without taking her eyes off of the screen. A group of kittens are learning to walk. It’s calming to her nerves. 

"That’s life,” Yoobin replies. 

“Do you know… What happened?” One of the kittens rolls onto its side and mewls pitifully for its mother. 

Yoobin shakes her head. “I have a theory, but it scares me a bit,” she says, turning a page in her book. 

“You think I was drugged,” Gahyeon says. The mother cat comes on screen and licks the kitten’s side. 

There's a long pause before Yoobin closes the book. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure you were drugged."

Gahyeon buries her head in her hands. " _Shit_ ," she says. 

There's a hand pressed against her back. "I don't know who did it, but I looked it up. You were either ill or drugged. And it wouldn't make sense for just you to be sick and no one else, especially Handong." Yoobin sighs. "I'm so sorry."

"You didn't do it," Gahyeon mumbles. _Breathe._ "Don't worry about it."

"You seem better now, at least. I was worried it would be a couple of hours-”

"Let's change the subject." She peeks at the book Yoobin’s got in her lap. “Is that a horror novel?”

Yoobin laughs and flips it over. It’s got one of the edgiest titles Gahyeon’s ever seen off of the internet - _Night of the Demon Killers and Other Stories_ \- and a black and white drawing of an old house on the front. “Yes, it is. Something about fictional stress just calms me down, I suppose.” She puts her hand over the cover. “I’ve had this book for a long time.”

That part’s obvious. The illustration is faded, the cover is cracked, the pages are yellow. Gahyeon brushes her hand aside and picks it up. “That’s actually smart,” she says, opening it up and skimming the table of contents. “Makes sense, at least.” 

“I’m glad to know I haven’t gone crazy yet,” Yoobin replies. She motions for her to hand the book back. “This isn’t helping you clean your room up, though.” 

Gahyeon wrinkles her nose. “I know. I just don’t want to deal with it right now.” 

“It’ll only get worse from here,” Yoobin says. She gently takes the book from the younger’s hands and closes it on the coffee table. 

“And Handong’s not gonna like it, either,” Gahyeon says. She yawns. “Ugh. Are you gonna help me?”

It’s a bit of a rhetorical question; Yoobin’s already gotten up off the couch. “You don’t look like you’ll be doing it by yourself,” she says. She pats her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get it over with before they get back.” And then she turns around and starts walking back towards the rooms. Gahyeon huffs and starts to rise. She is interrupted by the buzzing of the other phone, and then a text notification blooms across the screen.

Yoobin’s too far down the hall to notice it, so Gahyeon leans over to read it. It’s from Bora, in all caps. 

_[_ _OH YEAH_ _JUST SO YOU KNOW YOUR GUNS IN THE CAR?? AND LOADED??? ]_

Gahyeon jumps and grabs the phone just as the message is replaced by a different one. _[ I’ll bring it when we get home, how did that happen? ]_

“Gahyeon?” Yoobin calls from down the hall. 

Gahyeon panics and puts the phone down. “Coming!” she bleats, and pushes herself off of the couch so fast that it makes her nauseous again. She stumbles down the hall with her mouth in her hand and tries to ignore the message. _Yoobin has a gun?_ she thinks. 

_How did I not know that?_


	2. trap that's unavoidable

“I think there’s a pizza place still open,” Minji suggests, looking up from her phone. 

It’s just their luck, that the place Bora was thinking about is closed due to illness. It’s also disappointing; the place had  _ excellent _ BBQ that she’s been craving for the past two weeks. It’s  _ also _ unfortunate, because every so often one of their stomachs will growl and set everyone off arguing again. 

“Let’s just get ready meals from the corner store,” Yoohyeon suggests. “Like, frozen pizzas or chicken.” She’s curled herself up in the backseat quasi-illegally; the seatbelt’s on around her knees. 

“That’s actually a great idea,” Minji says. “Except the one near the complex closed… an hour and a half ago.” She groans. 

The car slows at a stoplight. Bora watches Siyeon rest her head on the steering wheel - and accidentally sets off the horn. Handong yelps in shock and drops her phone. 

“We’re running out of gas, too,” Siyeon mutters, flipping the turn signal on. 

“There’s snacks at a gas station,” Bora suggests. “We can survive for a night on ramen and cup mac and cheese, I think.”

Minji whirls around in the front seat and stares at her, with an exaggerated look of pain on her face. “Are you trying to kill me?” she says, and then she grins. “You can’t-  _ Gas station ramen _ ?” 

“It was just a suggestion,” Bora says, with a laugh. 

Siyeon spins the steering wheel, and they turn onto Fourth Street for the fifth time. “It’s a good option,” Handong says, shrugging. “It gives us some options.” 

“If I turn up dead tomorrow morning, it’s your fault,” Minji says. 

Bora looks over at Yoohyeon, who shrugs and says, “I’m just hungry.” She reaches up to the middle row of seats and smacks Handong’s shoulders. “Maybe I’ll eat you.”

“Why me? What did I do?” Handong says, slipping away from Yoohyeon’s hands. 

“You’re leaving soon, duh.” Yoohyeon giggles. “And I’m gonna miss you.” 

Handong shakes her head. “See, I’ll miss you too, but please don’t  _ eat me _ .” 

Bora rolls her eyes and leans back. It’s getting too late for this, and they are just buzzed enough to make it worse - minus Siyeon, of course, or else they’d be screwed. She twists her head to look out the window, at the passing buildings and streetlights. A few places are still open, with bright neon signs shining out into the road. A brilliant yellow sign proclaims a McDonald’s presence. Another advertises a clothing store. A green sign with a lovely design passes by before she can get a proper read as to what it says; not that she was to worry, she thinks, since they’ll probably be driving back around, anyway. Even so, she turns to look out the back windshield, straining her neck to see. 

They’ve passed the sign, but she notices something else instead. 

There’s a red car behind them, just like there’s been for the past five minutes.

She turns around and catches Yoohyeon’s eye. There’s a worried look on her friend’s face. “Something wrong, Bora?” she asks.

Bora glances back out the windshield and tries to make out anything about it. The license plate on the front is illegible in the dark, but it’s definitely the same car. She doesn’t take her eyes off of it as they slow again. There’s a bad feeling forming in her gut. 

“The closest convenience store is that way,” Handong says. “Like, turn right at the next… oh.” 

The car’s already turning left again. “We’re going to be stuck here forever,” Yoohyeon mutters. “Like a time loop.”

“Pull it up on your phone!” Siyeon calls, as they spin into the next road. “Then we won’t miss it.” 

“On it,” Minji says. 

Handong laughs. “That’s not how you spell that.”

Bora looks back out the windshield. The red car remains behind them. It doesn’t speed up; it doesn’t slow down. It just stays behind them. She bites her lip. “I think we’re being followed,” she says, loud enough to cut through the conversation. 

Everyone shuts down. Bora looks over her shoulder at the car again, and then at the other girls in the car. “...What?” Handong asks, her eyes wide. 

Bora shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know for sure,” she says, holding her hands up defensively. “But there’s been this red car following us for… the past like, seven minutes.” She shakes her head. 

“We’ve been driving in circles,” Siyeon says. 

“Turn right at the next light?” Bora suggests. 

“...Will do.”

“At least we’ll get to the gas station faster now,” Minji says, and then no one speaks for a while. Bora turns around again and stares out the window. She thinks for a moment, about Gahyeon and the strange way she was acting. She’s been doing her best to avoid it - she’d rather not think about the obvious drugging of one of her friends, or why, even though it’s colored the rest of their evening. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and checks it - the only text is one in the group chat from Yoobin, a full half an hour ago.  _ [ She fell asleep. We’re all okay. ]  _

Yoohyeon taps her hand. “Is  _ that _ the car?” she asks, and tilts her head out the window. 

Bora follows her gaze as they turn. Sure enough, the red car turns with them, without even turning on their turn signal. A chill runs down her spine. “Uh-huh,” she says with a nod. 

Yoohyeon takes a deep breath. “Oh, no,” she says, and she wiggles her knees free from the seatbelt. “We’re being followed.”

“It’s a bit fast to draw  _ that _ conclusion,” Handong says, although her face is taut. “Right?”

“Your dad’s a cop, right?” Siyeon asks. Bora tilts her head up to see who she’s talking too. 

Minji shakes her head. “Yeah, but he’s not awake right now. It’s past ten. He’s never awake at this hour.” She has her hand on her phone. “Should I call the police, though?”

Bora leans forward so she can hear better. “No, let’s wait. We can get to the gas station and into the light and maybe they’ll run off.” She picks up her phone, opens it, turns it off again. “Besides, there’s five of us, and one of them, I think. We’ll be fine.”

“And  _ we _ have a gun,” Siyeon says. “I think.”

The conversation dies again. “We have a  _ what _ ?” Handong says, her shoulders hiking up to her ears. 

“Yoobin should’ve turned it in to the cops?” Minji says. “This is illegal.” 

“Yoobin has a  _ gun _ ?” 

“And that was a secret.” Minji sighs. 

Bora exchanges a look with Yoohyeon. Yoohyeon shrugs, a helpless look in her eyes. “When did Yoobin get a gun?” she asks, sliding her eyes away from Bora. 

Minji shrugs. “A while ago?” 

“Like, a couple weeks,” Siyeon says. She leans across and glances at Minji’s phone. “You’ve seen the news.”

“It wasn’t her idea,” Minji says. “Was it her mom’s idea to break the law, too?”

“I don’t even think she wants the gun,” Siyeon mutters. “Which is why she’s never brought it in the house. I don’t want the gun, either.” She makes another right turn. 

“The only one here who knows who to shoot is me, I think,” Minji says. “And… I’m not that good.” There’s a click; Bora watches her pop the glove compartment open, and she squeaks. “Ah, it’s here!” She quickly snaps it shut again. 

The car falls silent.  _ There's a gun in the car _ , Bora thinks, fidgeting with her pop socket.  _ And it's been here for a while, and we are being followed, and might have to use it.  _

She turns her phone arounds and sends a panic text to Yoobin.

"What a night," Handong says, shaking her head slowly. 

"I am  _ so _ sorry," Minji replies. She twists around and smiles apologetically at her. "This was supposed to be fun."

"It's okay! It's okay." Handong puts her hand on Minji’s. "It's not like I'll be gone for a month or something, just two weeks. And besides, this makes for an interesting story to tell my parents." 

"Yeah, if you want them to never let you come to Seoul again," Yoohyeon says, grinning. 

"I will  _ not _ mention the gun, if that makes you feel better-"

"Hey, Mom and Dad, I was stalked while I was away! Also, my friend got drugged! Seoul is a fantastic place and I can't wait to go back!" Yoohyeon laughs.

So does Handong. "I feel like there are better ways to word it."

Bora looks down at her phone and smiles. At least they can still joke about it. As long as they can still joke about it, they’re fine. She checks the groupchat out of habit; so far, there’s nothing. That’s good. No news is good news, when it comes to being drugged. She closes the messenger app and opens Instagram. Nothing like mindless scrolling to settle her nerves. 

“Here!” Siyeon yells, as they nearly miss the turn for the third time. Her voice jolts Bora away from the meme on her screen. So does the  _ sharp _ turn she makes. Bora hiccups. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Minji says, giggling. “That was a bit much.” She smacks something. 

“This place is entirely backroads,” Siyeon says. Bora can hear in her voice the way she’s rolling her eyes. 

“Maybe we should switch the driver when we get to the gas station,” Handong suggests. “I don’t think any of us are drunk enough to warrant a designated driver.” 

Yoohyeon sighs. “Or ever were,” she says, shaking her head. 

“Look, I know I’m not the  _ best _ driver,” Siyeon says, as they bump their way over a barely-paved road and towards the one glowing light at the end of it. 

Bora leans forward so that she’s right next to Handong and laughs. “We love you anyway, Siyeonie,” she chirps. Handong nods. 

Siyeon lifts up her fingers in a heart and glances in the rearview mirror. “Oh, fuck,” she says, dropping her hand. “Is that the car?” 

Bora twists her head around and squints. The color is impossible to make out, but the headlights seem to be the same. “Yup,” she says. 

The car falls silent again, except for the louder thrum of the engine. The light approaches faster. 

“If you hit a pothole-” Handong begins. 

Siyeon snaps her hand up. “I won’t if I concentrate.” 

Bora looks back over her shoulder, at the car that’s yet to slip away. She licks her lower lip. They really are being followed, at twice the speed limit. Oh, God. 

Siyeon swerves into the gas station, and Bora is almost thrown off the seat. The seatbelt presses her into the seat and cuts off her airway for a second. “Jeez-” she coughs.

The car rumbles and bounces up to one of two gas pumps, and there, they stop. The other car slides into the other one and disappears behind the actual pump. Bora doesn't like that. She knows it's stupid, but she would much prefer seeing the car. Then she could see who's in it, see who's driving it, see who's been stalking them-

"So," Minji says. 

"So," Siyeon echoes. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "Who's getting out of the car?"

No one makes a move. "Nose goes?" suggests Yoohyeon.

"I guess I know how to shoot." Minji pushes the button on the glove compartment and it clicks open. She doesn't pick it up. 

Bora shakes her head. "It might be… not loaded," she says. 

"Only one way to find out." 

Outside, another car pulls up and slips into a parking space, judging from the sound. As one, each and every girl turns their head towards the new arrival. "It's the police!" Yoohyeon squeaks. Her phone bounces to the floor of the car. The glove compartment slams shut again. 

"That was smooth," Siyeon says. 

"I'm trying to not spend the night in jail," Minji mutters. 

Bora trains her eyes on the police car. The driver's pulled into a parking spot and is idling there for just a moment. "You'd get out the fastest," Siyeon says. Minji makes a noncommittal noise. 

The door to the police car swings open. "Depends-" Minji says, but she's cut off by Handong's squeal. 

"Oh, my God!" The Chinese woman leans forward and stabs her finger at the window. "I know him!" She's already unbuckling her seatbelt. "He can help us, wait-" 

That sets everyone off. Bora reaches for Handong's hand. "How?" Yoohyeon asks. She ducks to scoop up her phone. 

"Who is he?" Minji says, turning around to look at her friend.

Handong wiggles to the side and puts her hand on the door handle. "His name's Du Shiang," she says. "We went to school together. He told me he wanted to move here, but he never told me he had." 

"Are you sure it's him?" Siyeon asks. 

Handong nods. "I think I know what my best friend looks like," she says. 

Bora looks at the man, who's leaning on the car with a cigarette dangling between his fingers. His head keeps tilting up, then back down at his shoes. He's still in uniform. The sinking feeling in her gut increases. 

"A cop will definitely help us," Minji says. 

Siyeon nods. "Be quick," she says. "Don't let the stalker see you." 

Handong barely acknowledges this, just opens the door and hurries over. "Hey!" she yells, waving her hands. 

The police officer lifts his head, then smiles broadly. "Handong?" he says, and then the two of them are conversing in rapid Mandarin that Bora doesn't bother attempting to piece together with what little she's learned. She doesn't lift her eyes off of the pair. 

"Thank God," Minji says. "I'm glad that she was right." 

The officer waves one of his hands off to the side, drops his cigarette, crushes it beneath his boot. With the other arm, he embraces Handong. 

"Aww," Yoohyeon chirps. "It's so nice to see old friends again." 

The car on the other side of the gas pump starts to roll away. Bora twists her head around to watch the taillights of the car disappear into the twilight. The strange feeling in her gut grows stronger. She slides her gaze to Siyeon, who's got a weird look on her face that mirrors what Bora imagines she looks like. 

She looks back at Handong and Shiang. They seem to be laughing, which is a good sign. At least that means that there’s nothing to worry about anymore. The policeman’s got his phone out, and is showing something to Handong. “Should one of us get food?” Bora asks, already starting to climb over the center console to get out.

“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” Minji says, although she doesn’t sound too enthused. “I  _ need _ ramen?”

“Mac and cheese?” suggests Yoohyeon. 

Bora slips out the door Handong left open. “Sounds good,” she says. 

“I’ll get the gas,” Siyeon says.

Handong turns to Bora as she passes. “Oh,” she says. “Are we  _ really  _ getting food here?” 

“Might as well.” Bora shrugs. “Minji agreed to it, so it must be okay.” 

“Is this your friend?” Du Shiang asks in Korean, thankfully. He smiles at her. It feels a bit too wide. 

Handong nods. “Kim Bora, this is Du Shiang- Well, I told you that part already.” She laughs. “Shiang, this is Bora.” 

“Bora,” Shiang says. He nods at her. “Good to meet you.” 

Bora smiles back, but warily. “Good to meet you, too,” she says. “Yoohyeon wants mac and cheese and Minji’s getting ramen. You want anything else, Handong?” 

Handong hesitates before shaking her head. “Oh, that’s okay,” she says. “I’m not even that hungry, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Bora replies. “I don’t mind. This was supposed to be  _ your _ night anyway.” She gently nudges Handong’s shoulder. “I’ll get something for you.” 

Handong rolls her eyes. “Your night?” Shiang asks, lifting one of his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” she says, with a shrug. “Tomorrow night I’m heading home for a bit, nothing special. They’re just making a big deal out of nothing.” 

The police officer tilts his head. “Oh, well, when you will be back?” 

“The fifteenth.” She smiles. “Nothing happened with my family, don’t- don’t worry about that.”

He nods and leans back on his car, then slips back into Mandarin. Bora’s limited knowledge proves absolutely useless at the speed he’s talking. She settles for looking into the door of the gas station, which appears to be empty, from this angle. 

Handong looks surprised. “O-Oh,” she says before she trails off into an awkward giggle. The conversation continues in Mandarin. It’s annoying. Bora steps back and hops onto the sidewalk. She’ll just let her friend go for now. 

She pulls the glass door open and tries to ignore the voice niggling in the back of her head. There’s no reason for her to suspect anything; Du Shiang hasn’t done anything suspicious except wave his hand. She grabs a basket from the rack right next to the door and holds it with white knuckles. God, she’s tense. She combs her fingers through her hair. Handong’s a good judge of character. She’ll be fine. 

Bora looks around at the cramped gas station and the tightly packed aisles filled with various foodstuffs. The only other person here is the cashier, who’s hidden behind a rack of questionable magazines. She ignores him for now and sweeps a box of ramen into the basked. At least she has something tangible to focus on now. What does everyone  _ want _ ?

Five minutes later, the basket is laden with salty snacks and entrees, and she’s standing in front of the cold drink section, her finger tapping her chin, wondering whether or not it’s a good idea to pick up those energy drinks Gahyeon likes. It would be a nice treat, but Bora isn’t sure whether it would sit well with her stomach. She opens the fridge and pulls out a brilliant purple can, twists it around and skims the label. All natural. Should be fine. She shrugs and puts it in the basket. 

“Hey,” Handong says from somewhere to the left. Bora jumps. 

“Oh, my god.” Bora smacks her hand over her mouth. “You scared me.” She laughs and smacks Handong’s shoulder. 

Handong waves her off. “Didn’t mean to do that,” she says. She peers over Bora’s shoulder into the basket. “That’s a lot of junk.” 

“Look me in the eyes and  _ tell _ me it won’t be gone within a week,” Bora replies. She opens the fridge again and scans it before selecting an iced tea. “Even without you here.”

Handong feigns offense and presses her hand against her chest. “How dare,” she says. “Just because I like candy-”

“You want a drink?” Bora grabs a fruity soda and a sparkling water and places them in the basket. 

Handong shrugs. “Lemonade’s fine,” she says. 

Bora nods and puts a bottle in the basket. “What did Shiang say that spooked you?” she asks, finally stepping back and letting the door swing shut. 

Handong doesn’t answer that for a bit, just turns around and picks up a piece of fruit from the bin behind them. Bora turns as well and doesn’t take her eyes from her friend, as if to pressure her into answering.

Handong puts the banana down and sighs. “It’s… He just very suddenly asked if we could meet up tomorrow, like, he’d come get me, before the flight.” She shrugs. “He said there was something he needed to show me, but didn’t say what.” She picks up an apple and examines it. “And then he got  _ very _ intense, and it just… felt like I didn’t have a choice.” She hands it to Bora. “I told him I was going to be busy, but I did give him my number…” 

“Oh.” Bora picks up another shiny red apple and drops her gaze. 

“Yup.” Handong shakes her head. “Yup…” 

She puts another fruit in the basket. “I think we have enough,” Bora says. Handong makes a noise in agreement, and the two start weaving through the aisles to get to the cash register. The cashier has a cigarette dangling from his lips and barely lifts his eyes when Bora drops the basket on the counter. Lazily, he starts to scan their items. 

“I’m glad to see him again,” Handong says. She scratches at her wrist. “He was literally my best friend in high school. We helped each other through a lot. And I’m  _ very _ proud of him for moving out and becoming a police officer, like he always wanted to do.” 

Bora waves, and Handong steps aside so that she can put her card into the reader. “Did something change?” she asks. 

“Wanna bag?” the cashier asks, without removing the cigarette from his lips. The longer that she stands there, the more she doubts that it’s  _ just _ a cigarette. She nods. 

“Clearly,” Handong mutters. She reaches into the basket and snatches her lemonade before it’s put in the bag. “I can’t tell what it is, but he’s not the same. And, don’t get me wrong,  _ I’m _ not the same. I didn’t expect him to be, either, but this is… He’s off.” She twists the cap off the lemonade bottle and takes a sip. “And it’s not good.”

“Have a nice night,” drawls the cashier as he hands the plastic shopping bag to Bora. Bora nods and cradles the bag as they walk out. 

Handong sighs. “I might just be overthinking. This whole night has been a  _ mess _ .” She waves her hand to emphasize the point. “At least we’re going home, now.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Bora says. She drops the basket by the door. “We all need to sleep. Reset, recharge, rest. Thank God we don’t have classes.” 

Handong laughs. “You forget my flight,” she says.

Bora nudges her side. “That’s not till the evening. We have time.” She slips into the car and dumps the bag unceremoniously into the seat between her and Yoohyeon. The other girl looks up from her phone and down at the bag. 

“What’d you get?” she chirps, poking the plastic bag and peering into it. “Oo, cheese puffs.” 

“Was it your friend?” Minji asks Handong as she’s pulling the door shut. 

Handong hums. “Yeah, it was him. He gave me his number.” 

Minji whistles. “That’s great, Handong,” she says, turning back around. 

Bora picks up her phone and checks it. There’s nothing there. And then, there is. 

_ [ oh shit ]  _ says Yoobin.  _ [ please don’t. i’ll explain later. ] _

“Did you get sushi?” Siyeon calls from the front. Bora pushes the thoughts of the gun from her mind and tries to settle down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remind me to never ever ever write scenes with more than three people again. my head hurts from making them all talk.


	3. cinnamon

Yoobin wakes up the next day to sunlight filtering through the drawn curtains. She winces and puts her hand over her eyes. It’s too bright right now. She’s overslept. 

Minji, from the bunk below, snores rather loudly. Yoobin leans down and squints at the alarm clock on Minji’s night stand. It’s difficult to read from here, but it looks like it’s ten-something-or-other. She sighs and rolls onto her back. It makes sense, of course; she didn’t get to bed until two last night, what with helping Gahyeon clean up, and then having a cobbled together midnight dinner of ramen noodles and chips, and then helping Gahyeon clean up again. It wasn’t the best night, to say the least. 

She sighs and rolls upright, combing her fingers through her hair. It could always have been worse. There was an awkward conversation that she’s avoiding having, partially due to the need to help Gahyeon. Yoobin should check on her, make sure she’s okay. Hopefully, the drug, whatever it was, is out of the younger girl’s system by now. 

She eases her way to the edge of the bunk and twists around to slip down the ladder as quietly as possible. Minji lets out a loud honking snore and rolls over as she passes. Yoobin smiles and puts her hand on her mouth. Sometimes she wonders how she sleeps at night.

She grabs a giant black hoodie from the hook on the back of the door and heads out. As she shuts the door, she hears Siyeon mumble, “No, you’re  _ not _ the thief, it was…” 

Yoobin rolls her eyes. At least this feels normal. Perhaps things have finally settled down. 

She heads down the hall towards the bathroom, passing the other dorm in this hall as she walks. She hesitates for a moment, at this door, behind which Gahyeon and Handong should be sleeping. There’s no sound from within. They must be fast asleep in there. Good. They both need the rest. She brushes her fingers on the doorknob, and then moves past it. 

The sound of the shower from the bathroom surprises her. No one else seemed awake; no doors were open, no sounds were heard. Someone’s singing, too, quietly, and Yoobin only realizes that it’s Handong after she opens the door, and only after the water slowly trickles to a halt. Yoobin hears the shower curtain open and clears her throat. The other woman yelps. 

“It’s just me!” Yoobin says, her face splitting into an uncomfortable grin. “Relax.” 

Handong laughs from the other side of the room and pops her face out of one of the curtains. “Oh, Yoobin- Oh, my god.” She covers her mouth with her hand. Her eyes have bags underneath them. “My God, you scared me.” 

Yoobin shakes her head slowly. “I thought you were asleep,” she says. “Hold on, I’ll let you… Clean up.” She takes a step backwards and moves to shut the door. 

"It’s alright. You can’t see anything, anyway.” Handong pulls her head back behind the curtain and sighs. "Sorry, I'll hurry up." 

Yoobin continues to back out of the room. "Take your time," she calls. Then, she pauses for a moment and puffs out a sigh. Handong… Does not look well, to say the least. Yoobin combs her hair back and goes to wait in the common room. 

To her complete and utter lack of surprise, the room is a mess. Chip bags and plastic containers that once held mac and cheese are scattered all across the table, the remnants of Minji and Yoohyeon, most likely. Yoobin sighs and tosses her hoodie on the couch, which is thankfully free from debris. She doubts they're gonna wake up in time to clean the mess. She starts collecting the trash to throw it away. 

"Jesus," Handong says, softly, from the entrance to the room. Yoobin jumps; she hadn't heard the woman approaching. She's wearing a fluffy yellow bathrobe. She comes closer, and Yoobin winces at how hollow her eyes look. "We really left a disaster, didn't we?" 

Yoobin shrugs and stuffs a pair of plastic forks into the discarded chip bag she's using as a trash collection vessel. "You expected anything else?" she says, a half smile creeping onto her face. 

Handong has to laugh at that. "Not particularly," she says. She sweeps her damp hair over her shoulder and moves to help. 

Yoobin puts a hand on her wrist. "I got this." She tilts her head towards the couch. "Why don't you go sit down?" 

"Jesus, Yoobin," Handong mumbles, rubbing her face with her hands. "Don't be stubborn."

"You look like you need the rest." Yoobin sidesteps so that she bumps Handong out of the way. "I'm amazed you're awake right now." 

Handong pauses for a moment, then seems to relent. She rounds the coffee table and stretches out on the couch. "Sorry. I just… couldn't sleep." She leans on her hand. "I had too much going on…" 

Yoobin scoops a Cup-a-Noodle's bowl into the bag and struggles to jam it in. "Yes, I can imagine. Last night sounds like it was- tough." By some miracle, the bowl breaks, and she fits the two pieces into the bag much easier. "Of course, I don't think I know  _ all _ the details. But you don't have to talk now, if you'll be uncomfortable." 

She looks at the other woman, who's drawn her eyebrows together in an expression of deep thought. Her gaze is fixed somewhere on the middle distance. "Actually, I would like to ask for advice." She stops talking. 

Yoobin nods and sweeps some crumbs into the bag. 

"Okay." Handong sighs. "If… If… Well, okay. Say you ran into your best friend from high school again." 

Yoobin nods again. "I wouldn't want to, but go on." 

Handong laughs, but it feels more reflexive than anything else. "Yes, I understand. Imagine you did, though." She straightens up. "And you were so excited to talk to them again. And like, they were so successful, and they were achieving their dreams, and you were so, so happy for them." She pauses, flexes her fingers, sighs. "But… But it just. Something's wrong. Does that make sense?" She shakes her head. "I don't know. The entire thing felt wrong."

"I see." Yoobin tosses the bag into the trash can and comes to sit down next to Handong. She balls her hoodie up and sets it in her lap. "That's what happened?"

Handong nods. "Basically. I got his number, or rather, he  _ gave _ me his number without me asking. He seems determined to get us to hang out today, before my flight. It took most of last night to tell him off. And that's just weird, right? Like I'm not overreacting?" She looks away. "I mean, sure, it's been a couple of years, but I'm only going to be gone for two weeks. And yet, he was talking like he was going to die tomorrow. That's how intense this was." She shifts back and forth. "I'm worried, just a bit."

Yoobin nods. 

"Don't get me wrong, I want to talk to him again." Handong sighs. "Just not like this."

"When's your flight?" Yoobin asks. 

"Nine PM."

"Just tell him that you're busy today, no matter what he might say." Yoobin leans forward and starts to get up. "You will be, anyway, so you're not lying."

Handong sighs. "It's not that easy," she says. She leans her cheek against her hand. "He's insistent. The only reason he isn't texting me now is because he's asleep." She picks at the tie of her bathrobe. "Lord. I've never been happier to be going home." 

Yoobin nods. “You’ve earned this break.” She tucks the hoodie underneath her arm and combs her fingers through her hair. “Take it easy today, alright?” 

She starts down the hall towards the bathroom, and Handong laughs behind her. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” 

Yoobin’s almost successfully down the hall when she hears someone scrabbling down the hallway. “Shoot!” Yoohyeon says. There’s a banging noise from the kitchen.

“Good morning?” Handong offers. 

“I forgot I had a paper due last night, can’t talk, panicking, oh no-”

Yoobin rolls her eyes playfully. 

The last person to get up is, unsurprisingly, Gahyeon, yet she’s the one with the most energy, even right off the bat. Yoobin finishes up the last bit of school work that she had left and leaves her room to find the youngest practically interrogating Handong, with a piece of paper in her hand. 

“Toothbrush,” she says. 

“Definitely. I put it right into my bag after using it this morning,” Handong replies. 

Gahyeon checks something off the list. “Okay. Toothpaste.” 

“My parents have toothpaste, Gahyeon.”

“Just in case you get like, stuck at the airport or whatever. Like last time.” She checks it off anyway. 

Handong puts her hand on the paper. “I think I’m okay,” she says calmly. “My parents definitely have everything on this list. They’re my parents, not a hotel. And I’m not gonna get stuck. Relax.” 

Gahyeon puts the pad of paper down. “Yeah, you said that last time, and then you were gone for six months-”

“What  _ are _ you doing?” Yoobin asks. She picks up a clearly forgotten mug of coffee on the other side of the coffee table out of habit. 

“Making myself useful,” Gahyeon says. 

Handong rolls her eyes. “So she says.” 

Gahyeon offers the paper to Yoobin. “I don’t see what’s wrong with this,” she says, pointing down the list. 

“I already did all of this, though.” Handong laughs. “I appreciate the concern, Gahyeonie, I really do, but you can relax.” 

Yoobin takes the cup of coffee back towards the kitchen. Minji pops her head out from by the stove. “Want to help?” she says, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. 

“What’re you doing?” Yoobin asks. She peers around the corner and stares at the pot Minji’s got a spoon sticking out of. 

“Making a mess,” Siyeon laughs. She’s leaning against the counter, shaking her head. There’s some sort of sauce splashed all over the place. 

Minji takes the spoon out and points it at Siyeon. More sauce splatters; Siyeon narrowly avoids getting hit. “I was doing fine until you showed up and distracted me,” she says. She drops the spoon back in and stirs some more. “It was supposed to be pasta. It’s kind of just… Food now.” 

Yoobin inches past them and dumps the mug into the sink, which is miraculously empty. She rinses it out and leaves it on the drying rack. “I mean, it smells like food,” she says. “What do you need?” 

“A test dummy,” Siyeon says. She reaches over and flicks the stove off. The bottom of her sleeve - which is white - is dropped into the pot. “Dammit!” 

Minji drops the spoon and covers her mouth to keep from laughing. More sauce splashes, splattering the two of them equally. “Oh,  _ no _ ,” she wails, and then she’s laughing harder. 

“This was such a nice shirt,” Siyeon says. She makes a noise sort of between a laugh and a cry. 

Yoobin tries to wipe some of the mess off, but the stain only spreads. “Oops,” she says. “It’s a cooking shirt now!”

Siyeon reaches for the spoon  _ and _ the pot and drags them across the stove, away from Minji, who’s laughing hard enough that she’s stopped making sense. “We barely have any brunch left,” she says, scraping some of the food together. 

“We can just eat your shirt,” Minji says. She tries to wipe her face, but only smears some more. “Jesus. This is a  _ disaster _ .” 

“Hurricane Spaghetti,” Yoobin says. “On the bright side, we have bleach  _ somewhere _ .” 

“There’s enough for three people,” Siyeon says. She grabs a set of bowls from the cabinet above the stove and pours some into the first one. It’s not even spaghetti. "Here’s for you, Yoobin.” She twists around and hands a bowl behind her. “And here’s mine. And here’s…” She sets the pot in the sink and picks up the bowl. Minji turns to reach for it and Siyeon sidesteps her. “Handong, you- Oh, hi, Bora.” 

“Hey,” Minji whines. “I made the food…” 

Yoobin opens the silverware drawer and starts rummaging through it. 

“What are you  _ doing _ ?” Bora says. “My god, it’s like something exploded.” 

“Want some?” Siyeon says. 

Yoobin finds a fork and shuts the drawer with her hip. Bora leans forward and squints into the bowl Siyeon’s holding. “What  _ is _ it?” she asks, wrinkling her nose a bit. 

“It was  _ supposed _ to be pasta,” Minji says. 

Bora shakes her head. “I think I’m good, right now, but you can save me some.” She gestures towards Yoobin. “Hey, Yoobin-ah, we’re out of  _ cinnamon _ .” 

Yoobin drops her fork into the bowl. “Ah, are we?” she says. She sets the bowl on the counter to her left. 

“Yeah. Think we could head out and get some, like, now, maybe?” Bora stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jeans. 

Yoobin nods. “Absolutely. You can have my share, Minji.” She nods at Bora. “Do you want to drive, or should I?” 

“You can,” Bora says with a shrug. She turns around and starts towards the front door. 

Minji whistles when she’s out of earshot. “Haven’t heard that in a while,” she says. 

“Yeah, couple months. What was last time?” Siyeon tilts her head. 

“Intervention on Yoohyeon’s grades,” Minji says. 

Yoobin sighs. “This is gonna be a fun conversation,” she says. 

Minji puts her hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Yoohyeon probably has questions too, and Handong, and well, you’re gonna have to explain eventually.” 

Siyeon nods. “It’ll be fine. Once you mention your  _ dad _ -”

“Yeah, I got it,” Yoobin says. She smiles. “It’s overdue anyway. I’m amazed it was a secret for this long.” She finishes this sentence with a pointed look at Minji, who looks startled and holds her hands up defensively.

“Me?” she bleats. “I’m pretty good at keeping secrets!”

Yoobin shakes her head slowly. “See you later.” She starts to head out, crossing the common area as she goes. Bora is nowhere to be seen. Gahyeon and Handong have stopped converse. Gahyeon’s staring at Yoobin. 

“Oof,” she says. “Cinnamon coded.” 

Yoobin ignores her and grabs the keys from the bin by the door. 


	4. to charge a phone

“You know, despite the mess, I think we got a pretty successful lunch out of this,” Siyeon says. She has a wad of paper towels in one hand - and a brand new, bright red shirt on her back. “You seemed to enjoy it.” 

Handong nods. “Yeah. It was nice. What did you use?”

Siyeon shrugs. “Oh, you know. Leftover vegetables. Some chicken. Minji picked the sauce.” 

“Well, it was good, no matter what. Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?” Handong asks. She reaches for the cleaner Siyeon’s holding in her other hand. 

Siyeon swats her hand away. “We’re good, promise. You gotta rest some.” She sprays some more fluid on the stove and scrubs at it. “Jeez, when was the last time anyone cleaned this?” 

Handong watches her for a moment more, before Siyeon glares at her and forces her to walk away. She attempts to go sit back down on the couch, but she finds that her seat has been taken by one Kim Yoohyeon, lying face down and groaning. 

“Are you alright?” Handong asks. 

“My head hurts,” Yoohyeon whines, though her voice is muffled through the pillows. 

Handong perches on the arm of the couch and sets her hand gently on Yoohyeon’s head. “Did you get that paper done?” she asks. 

Yoohyeon nods. “Badly,” she says. She starts to roll over and pushes Handong’s hands out of the way. “Why did I major in _English_ again?” 

Handong laughs, covering her mouth. “Aw.” 

“I’m gonna drop out and become an idol.” She stares at the ceiling. “Wanna join me?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Yoohyeon grins and frames her head with her hands. “Take a picture for my wiki page- Kim Yoohyeon, leader of… Of…”

“Wouldn’t I be the leader?” Handong says. “I’m older.” 

Yoohyeon pretends to pout. “C’mon, you gotta give me _something_. We could set a precedent. Reverse maknae.” She grins. “Maybe I could change my name, ooh…”

Handong slips gracefully off of the armrest and grabs for her phone. “Can’t wait to tell my parents that I’m dropping out to become a K-Pop star. They’re going to be so pleased at all the money they’ve thrown at me.” 

Yoohyeon laughs. “Oh, watch this. Hold on. I can be dramatic.” She sits up and crosses her legs, one arm stretched out behind her and one leg kicked up into the air. It’s ridiculous in the oversized Sanrio hoodie and poofy slides she’s wearing. Handong grins and hits the home button to open it. And nothing happens. 

“Hm.” She holds the power button down for a bit. 

“Is it dead?” Yoohyeon says. “I can’t do this for much longer.” She curls her leg up under her. 

The screen flashes up with the low battery icon, much to Handong’s bewilderment. She sighs. “Yeah, it’s dead. I’ll be right back.” 

“Moment’s passed, won’t be funny anymore,” Yoohyeon says. “I’m gonna resume my wallowing.” She flips her hood up and pulls the drawstrings until there’s nothing visible of her face except for a tiny strand of hair. 

Handong darts down the hallway and into her and Gahyeon’s dorm. Gahyeon is lying on her back, playing some game on her Switch. “Oh, what’s up?” she asks, barely looking up from the screen. 

“Have you seen my charger?” Handong asks. She goes to her bed and leans towards the power outlet. There is one brick plugged in, but no cord attached to it. 

Gahyeon shrugs. “Did you put it in your bag?” 

She shakes her head. “I don’t even remember plugging my phone in last night, to be honest.”

“Yeah, you were up late,” Gahyeon says. “Even worse than me.” She freezes and sets her Switch on her chest. “Wait.”

Handong sighs. “No wonder it’s dead.” She glances over at her roommate. “What?” 

Her roommate squeezes her eyes shut. “Well, I might have given it to Minji.” 

"You gave my charger to Minji?” 

Gahyeon sits up. “Well, Yoohyeon lost hers, so Minji had lent her her own, but then she needed a charger, and I had been using yours since I _think_ Siyeon took mine, and I didn’t think about it and gave it to her. We only have like four chargers, dude.” She looks pointedly at the ceiling, stretches, fidgets. “Maybe check with her?” 

Handong shakes her head. “I’ll just buy a new one. We need to buy them again soon _anyway_.” She sighs and glances out the window. The sky’s gray and overcast. It doesn’t bode well for a flight later. 

“I can give you money, if you need it.”

“It’s like, nothing.” Handong laughs and looks back at her roommate, who’s already reaching for her nightstand. “I think I can pay for this.” She turns around and pulls the drawer of her dresser open. “I’ll just go now so I can make it quick.”

Gahyeon flops back on the bed with a _thwump_. “Might rain some more,” she comments. 

Handong pulls a carefully folded hoodie from the drawer and wriggles into it. “That’s why I’ll make it quick. A little rain won’t kill me, anyway.” She pulls at the collar until it’s in a more comfortable position, pats her collarbone, and picks up the mask on top of her dresser. “Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Mm-hm!” Gahyeon chirps, without really sounding like she’s paying attention. “Ah, _fuck-”_

Handong lets the door shut before she can figure out what the younger’s yelling at. She hurries down the hall and stops at the front door to grab a pair of slip on sneakers. “I’ll be right back,” she says to Yoohyeon, who’s still the only one in the common area. 

“Huh?” Yoohyeon asks. She pops her head up from the couch. “Where’re you going?”

“Gotta buy a charger real quick. Won’t take long.” She slips her feet into the mules. 

Yoohyeon makes a noise of agreement and disappears back into the cushions. Handong smiles and hurries out the door. 

She sets off at a brisk pace, keeping one eye on the clouds overhead. It’s a bit nerve wracking to be heading out without her phone, especially when she’s trying to avoid a coming storm. Well, judging from the clouds, not a storm, but at least an annoying drizzle. A cold breeze blows past, and she stuffs her hands in her pockets. A nice warm coffee sounds _fantastic_ as well. 

The streets aren’t super busy, despite it being early afternoon. She passes only a couple other people. It feels sort of odd, especially for a Saturday. She pauses at a street corner and waits for the light to turn green. Perhaps the weather’s going to be worse than she thought. 

Her mind wanders to her upcoming flight. She wonders if she’ll get home on time. Her mom’s going to be waiting at that airport for at least two hours before she gets home. She would hate to make it longer. 

The light turns green just as a car tears by and bounces off the opposite curb. Handong stumbles backwards, grabs onto the light pole for stability. “Oh,” she says, and her heart pounds into her throat. She stays back while a police car goes past, at a similar pace. “Okay…?”

She decides to wait until the next green light before going ahead. No one else seems to have noticed. Or at least, no one else seems to have cared. She takes a deep breath and continues down the sidewalk. 

It’s only a five minute walk to the corner store, but the strange quiet makes it seem so much longer. She relishes pushing open the door to the little shop and hearing tinny music leaking from the speakers. She lets out a sigh of relief. 

There're approximately three people in the store, counting the two cashiers. Handong slips between the aisles and picks up an iPhone cord from the back rack, smiling reflexively at the person she passes by. They stare at her over their mask. Handong flinches involuntarily and tries her best to ignore them as she heads over to the trio of coffee machines.

The cashier behind the counter hands her a Styrofoam cup, and she stares at the three machines and their various flavors before selecting the hazelnut blend. She dumps two sugars and two creamers into the cup and hits the button to pour the coffee. It smells good, even around her mask. She grabs a coffee stirrer to use as a makeshift straw. 

There’s a tap on her shoulder, as she pops the lid onto the cup. When she turns around, she nearly spills the coffee down her shirt. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Du Shiang says, and his face splits into an enthusiastic grin. 

Handong holds her other hand over her mouth, dropping the charging cord. “Oh my god,” she says, before laughing awkwardly. It hurts her to get it out. “You scared me.” 

Du looks apologetic. He stoops to pick up the box. “Didn’t mean to,” he says in Chinese. “I’m just a little surprised, is all.” He offers the charger back and smiles softly, his eyes crinkling a little. “Here. You don’t look so good.” 

She takes the charger. It’s definitely just her imagination, but she feels like she’s being trapped. She takes a step back and bumps into the coffee counter, decides to use this as an opportunity to collect herself. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she says. She chooses not to accuse him of anything and settles on avoiding looking at him. 

“Ah. My fault, no doubt.” He chuckles drily. “Look. Sorry, I was just enthusiastic. I mean, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

She nods. “Yes, it certainly has.” She turns to step around him and towards the cashier. 

Except she doesn’t get that far. He steps in front of her. “Lemme make it up to you,” he says, holding one of his hands in front of her. “I’ll pay for this. It’s not much, but it’ll be something.” 

She hesitates. “Oh.” She looks down at her cup of coffee and off brand charging cord. It can’t be more than six thousand won. She could find that in the couch cushions in the common area, or in Gahyeon’s pillowcase. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“I insist,” Du says, and that smile on his face feels a bit more unnatural. It isn’t in his eyes. He reaches and plucks the charging cord out of her hand. “It’s the least I can do.” 

He walks off towards the cash register, leaving Handong behind with a gaping mouth and a hot cup of coffee. “I-” she says, and then she hurries to follow him. “Look, Du, you-”

“Thank you for your business,” says the cashier. “Have a good day.” 

Handong snaps her jaw shut. Du positively _beams_ at her and hands the cord over to him. “You’re welcome,” he says. 

She takes the cord from him and stuffs it in her jacket pocket. “Alright,” she says. “I guess.” 

There’s a long, awkward pause; Du lowers his gaze. “What’s wrong?” His shoulders drop. “You look tense.”

“Just tired,” Handong says. She taps the top of the coffee. “Once I finish this, I’ll be fine.” She quirks the corner of her lips into a small smile and hopes that it is enough to convince him. 

He nods. “Ah, that makes sense. I’m the same way with my caffeine.” He laughs and waves his hand. 

She laughs too and starts looking for a way out. Suddenly, the corner store feels very, very small. She side-steps. “Well, thank you anyway,” she says, bowing her head slightly. “I’ll see you-”

“Ah, it’s raining,” Du says, and Handong feels something in her chest snap and sink into her stomach. “Looks like the storm’s here early.” He crosses towards the window and stares out the window. “That’s good for your flight, isn’t it? Better that the rain comes earlier rather than later.” He taps the glass. 

Handong swallows. “Yeah. Sure is.” She walks towards the other window to see how bad it is and winces. It’s raining hard enough to be downright bad, especially if it leaks through the charging cord’s box, or waters down her coffee, or makes a big enough puddle to get her splashed by a passing car. She wishes she had a working phone - at least then she could text Bora or Yoobin and ask to be picked up when they’re finished. But she doesn’t, so here she is, stuck and unable to drink her coffee. 

“When _is_ your flight? You didn’t tell me last night.” Du looks at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Nine PM.” 

He hums. “You need to get home, then,” he says. “Get ready to check in and all of that.” 

She looks at the rain. “Yes,” she says. “Hopefully the rain will let up soon.” 

“Did you walk?” Du turns to look at her and tilts his head towards the parking lot. 

She nods. “It isn’t far,” she says. 

“Let me guess. You’re a student in the dorms.” He laughs a little. 

Handong stares at him, her eyes widening involuntarily. “Why, yes, in fact, I am.”

“Relax, I’m not stalking you. We just get a lot of calls from that area.” He snaps his fingers. “Would you like a ride? I know the area pretty well.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Handong says. “The rain looks like it’s letting up soon, anyway.” 

Du shakes his head. “It’s really no problem,” he says. “It’s only two minutes down the road.” He points at a police cruiser parked close to the entrance. “Come on. You seem tired, anyway.” He steps to the door and puts his hand on the handle. 

Handong stares at him. She’s never noticed just how tall he is until now, when he’s looking down at her. She sneaks a glance towards the cashiers, neither of who seem to be paying attention. She wonders how long it’s been since she left, exactly. 

“Alright,” she says, after a long pause. “Just as long as we go straight home. I really don’t have time for anything today.” 

Du nods and pushes the door open. “Home,” he echoes. “Let’s go.”

Handong pauses in the doorway, flipping her hood up while she waits. She watches him hop down the steps and unlock his car door. He waves his hand, beckoning her forward. 

"Alright," he says, as she comes towards him. "Off we go." He twists the key in the ignition. "You can take your mask off, I'm not sick." He unloops the mask from his ears. "Drink your coffee in peace. Don't worry." He grins at her. 

She swallows and slips into the passenger seat, gripping the Styrofoam cup so tightly that it bends. "Yeah," she says. She puts the cup into the cupholder at her side. "Thank you." 

"No." Du shrugs and starts to pull backwards, out of the parking spot. "Thank _you_." 

"For… _what_?" Handong asks. She stares out the window, watches the raindrop come down. Then, the car turns left, and she snaps her gaze back to the driver. "Hey. The dorms are that way."

He hums. "I know."

"So, you're going the wrong direction-"

"Have you ever talked to God, Handong?"

He stares at her, and any trace of smile has disappeared from his face. She flinches away from him and curls her hand into her chest. "Wh...What?" she stammers. 

"You heard me." Du drums his fingers on the steering wheel, as if he just asked her how her day was. "Have you ever talked to God, and had him _answer_ you?"

Handong swallows. "I can't say I have," she says. "Why do you ask?" 

"Because… _I have_." Du's lips curl into a grin, but it's cold, uncaring. "Because he's spoken to me and told me his will." He slows at a traffic light.

She blinks at him. "That's… Wonderful for you," she says. She slowly, so as not to get his attention, reaches for the lock on the door. 

"It _is_ . It is _fantastic_." His voice is tremulous. "And he wants me to show you."

She puts her hand on the lock and runs her thumb over it. "Me," she says. She clicks the lock as quietly as she can.

He nods. "Yes, Handong." He turns to look at her, his eyes wide with some unknown emotion. " _You_."

"That's very interesting," she says. "But surely there's a way to wait? I'll only be gone two weeks." She puts her other hand on her seatbelt buckle. "Seriously, I can't-"

"You can't?" He laughs drily. "You can't interfere with God." 

She darts her eyes to the traffic lights; the green lights have changed to yellow. She's running out of time. "Maybe you misunderstood," she suggests, and then she clicks her seatbelt undone and slams against the door, her hand on the handle. 

Except she's too late. Du slams the button on his side and the doors lock again. Handong smacks her head into the window and gasps. "No, you misunderstood," he says. "You've never had a choice." 

She opens her eyes and touches the tender spot on her head. The car lurches forward. Du's looking at her softly. "I'm sorry," he says. "I wish that it didn't have to be like this." He turns his eyes back to the road. "If it were a week ago, this would be different."

"But it doesn't," she says, and this time she tries to roll the window down. It doesn't budge. "You could just let me go. We could continue this later. I promise to listen, but after I come back. I _promise_." She clicks the lock again. The car doesn't seem to be moving too fast. It's gonna hurt, but she could theoretically jump. She takes a deep breath.

"Unlock the damn door again," Du mutters. "I dare you." Any trace of apology has vanished from his voice. Handong drops her hand from the door handle. 

"Let me go," she says. "Please."

He shakes his head and grips the steering wheel with white knuckles. "Ten minutes, and then you can go." He hits the door lock button once again. "If all goes well."

_If all goes well._


	5. chase me

"It's the gun, right?" Yoobin asks, as Bora shuts her door. 

The way she says that - defeated, sort of like she was expecting it - surprises Bora, who looks away. She waits for Yoobin to turn the car on before talking. "Yeah," she says. "It's about the gun."

"It wasn't my idea," Yoobin says. She spins the steering wheel and backs out of the parking space. "I just… Last break, when I went home, my mom pulled me aside and…" She sighs, drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "She told me that this area-" she waves one hand around in a circle- "was getting dangerous for, quote, 'girls who look like me,' and-"

"What does  _ that _ mean?" Bora interrupts. She turns to Yoobin with a baffled look on her face.

Yoobin shrugs. "Didn't bother asking. I'm not sure I would want to know. There's really only two things it could mean, and one of them is my father."

"Ah." Bora’s eyes widen. "That's not good, right."

Yoobin shakes her head. "It isn't." She leans over the steering wheel and checks for cars. Bora decides to stare straight ahead. "I told my mom that I didn't want it, but she kept insisting. She just went on and on about how worried she was for me - which I love, I would rather her worry than simply not care at all."

"Yeah, I get that," Bora says. She studies very carefully the billboard in front of her, which is advertising some sort of insurance company. 

"I feel like I wouldn't have had to take it if my step-dad hadn't gotten involved." They turn onto the main road. "I was more surprised when he took  _ her _ side. Long story short, a week later when I was driving home, there was an illegal gun in the glove compartment, and it's basically been there ever since." 

Bora glances down at the glove compartment and touches the handle delicately. "How did you keep it secret?" 

Yoobin laughs. "I didn't. Minji learned within a week." She's sort of smiling, which is odd, Bora thinks. "Luckily it was our turn to do the groceries, so I could explain before she freaked out, although that didn't stop the freak out, more delayed it." She shakes her head. "She gets it. Which is how no one else found out - well, no, Siyeon knew, but… Does any of this make sense?"

Bora scrunches her face up while she thinks. "I… No. For a whole bunch of reasons."

"Ask away."

"First, how the  _ hell _ did you get  _ Minji _ , who is  _ lawful good _ , to be okay with  _ this _ ?" She starts to count on her fingers. "Second, you have a step-dad? You never told me this. Third, why can't you get it registered again? Fourth-"

Yoobin holds one of her hands in front of Bora's face. "Slow down. We have time to get to all of them." She returns her hand to the two o'clock position on the steering wheel. "First, I… Really don't know." She shrugs hopelessly. "I just told her the truth - that this probably had something to do with my father, and that I'd get arrested if I turned it in, and that it's probably my mother's anyway, and that I didn't want to bring it in the house and that I was gonna do my best to never use it and then return it next time I saw my mother." She pauses. "Also, I gave her thirty thousand won, but only after she started crying.

"She was  _ crying _ ?" Bora interrupts. 

"That part wasn't my fault. I will take responsibility for everything else, but she was not crying because of me." Yoobin sighs. "It took her awhile to accept it, to be honest. There was a period of a week or two where she wouldn't talk to me."

Bora nods. "Ah. Yeah, I remember, that was… awkward. That was why?" She tilts her head. "I had no idea."

"No one did. I am as surprised as you are." Yoobin shrugs. "I was almost certain that I'd have to tell you all then, instead of, what, two months out?" She turns left. "If there's one thing that Minji does, it's keep her word. Which is why I'm glad we're still friends, after that." 

"When did Siyeon find out?" Bora asks. 

Yoobin blows out a breath. "Shortly after that," she says. "She asked Minji what had happened, and then refused to let me  _ not  _ tell her when Minji didn't." She slows down as a police car approaches from the other direction, just in case. Bora puts her hands on the glove compartment reflexively. Nothing happens. 

“For future reference,” Yoobin says, “don’t do that. It just looks suspicious.” 

Bora pulls her hand back and puts it on her lap. No position that she rests it in feels natural anymore. “Okay, that’s that, I guess. Next question. Have you always had a step-dad, or am I the stupid one?” 

The younger girl laughs. “You’re not stupid,” she says, and she smiles - genuinely, not some sort of half-grimace. “I just don’t talk about him much. Or the rest of my family.” 

“Yeah, you have good reason to.” Bora’s phone buzzes, and she pulls it out of her pocket. “It’s from Yoohyeon in the group chat,” she says. “Handong went out, apparently.”

Yoobin squints at the sky. “Now? It looks like it’s gonna rain any minute now.” 

“I dunno. Yoohyeon didn’t say. Third question.” Bora lifts her hand so she’s showing three fingers. “The registration issue.”

Yoobin’s face falls. “That’s… Really complicated, Bora,” she says. They slow at a stop light, and she leans her face in her hand. “I don’t even think the gun itself is registered. It’s  _ clearly _ American, my mom couldn’t answer where she got it, it could be my father’s, I don’t need to explain that I don’t have a license…” She sighs. “I could get thrown in jail, my mom could get thrown in jail, my brother, too. Any of you, as well, if they found out that you knew - though that wasn’t as big of a problem until last night. Not that it wouldn’t be horrible if Siyeon or Minji went to prison, of course. There’s just more of a risk with six people instead of two. Does that make sense?” 

“Not really, to be honest,” Bora replies. “But none of it makes sense.” 

Somewhere behind them, police sirens start blasting, and both of them stiffen up. “Maybe let’s keep going this way,” Bora says, and Yoobin just nods, doesn’t say anything.

“Besides, I’m gonna give it back within the next two weeks anyway,” Yoobin mumbles. “It’d be pointless to start the process now, anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bora replies.

That’s the last thing anyone says for a while. She turns her gaze to the window in an attempt to find something interesting to look at. The streets, however, are empty; perhaps the threat of rain is chasing them away. She sighs and leans on her hand. The eerie quiet is only contributing to her unsettled mood. She glances over at Yoobin, who is scanning the roads for traffic with the intention of turning, and then away again. Yoobin hasn’t been  _ lying _ \- Bora knows that for a fact - but there’s something that she’s leaving out. That part’s obvious. Despite the handful of conversations they’ve had about their pasts, Yoobin’s never mentioned anything other than “my father’s a bad person” and left it at that. It’s unnerving to know so little. 

Especially when there’s a gun sitting directly in front of her. 

“I have another question,” Bora says, without taking her eyes from the window. Rain’s begun to fall in a light drizzle. She traces the path of the raindrops with her eyes. 

“Ask away,” Yoobin says, turning left for the fourth time.

The rain has already gotten harder. It won’t last long. “When did you learn to shoot?” she asks, finally turning to look at her companion. 

Yoobin holds the steering wheel just a bit tighter, making her knuckles turn white. “A long time ago,” she says.

“How long ago?”

Yoobin doesn’t respond. They drive past the entrance to the apartments. “Don’t recall,” she says eventually. “It was… a long time ago.”

Bora sighs and sits up. “Seriously, that’s-” she begins, but then she sees the police car next to her and shuts up. “Never mind,” she says, starting to lean back. 

And then she sees the face in the passenger seat. “Holy shit,” she breathes, her hand on her phone. “Is- Is that Handong?”

Yoobin startles. “What are you talking-” she says. Bora points at the window and leans forward to get a better look. 

The woman in the car turns around, and presses her hand to the glass, and Yoobin slams on the brakes. Handong is definitely sitting in the car next to them. There’s a panicked look on her face. She rubs her forehead and looks away. Bora smacks Yoobin’s hand. “Oh my God, Handong’s in a police car,” she says. “How did-”

“Hold on.” Yoobin shakes her head slowly. “She’s in the passenger seat. She can’t have been arrested.” 

Bora leans back and frowns. “You’re… Yeah, that makes sense.” She rubs her face. “Her friend, he was a cop, too… But then why does she look like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like she’s about to start crying.” She reaches for her phone. “I’m gonna tell the others.” 

They stop at the same stoplight. Yoobin taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “This doesn’t feel right,” she says. “This just…” She trails off. “Wasn’t her friend a cop?” 

Bora nods. “The one we met last night? Yeah.” She peeks at the car next to them. “He was kind of a weirdo. Something about him just… It didn’t feel right. Wait.” Suddenly, her heart has started jackhammering in her ears. “That could be him in the car with her.”

At the last second, Yoobin flips the turn signal on. Her face is set in this rock hard line, her hands have gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles, her shoulders are unnaturally stiff. “It’s gotta be,” she says. They turn when the car in front of them does. “There’s no one else it could be.”

“Are you  _ following  _ them?” Bora says, and she reaches for Yoobin’s hand. “Are you crazy? We could get ki-”

“Not if Handong’s in the car, we won’t. No one’s stupid enough to kill three people in broad daylight.” Yoobin sounds determined. “Besides, we just have to follow them. We don’t have to get out.” 

Bora digs her fingers into Yoobin’s wrist. “Maybe we should just call the police ourselves. We can see if there’s anything suspicious going on.”

“There’s definitely something suspicious going on.”

"I don’t wanna  _ die _ , Yoobin. Or get arrested. Orsome horrible combination of both.”

She watches the police car make a sharp turn towards a ramp. Yoobin relaxes and continues straight ahead. “Fine,” she says. She pulls over to the side of the road, but doesn’t take her eyes off the ramp. “This isn’t right. This  _ can’t _ be right. Handong was talking to me earlier, about her friend and all of this. There’s no way this is going to end well.”

“I’m gonna call someone,” Bora says. “And then we’ll go from there.” She grabs her phone from the door, her eyes trained on Yoobin’s face the whole time. The younger woman’s face is difficult to read.

“Sounds good,” she says after a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jojo's bizarre adventure au: yes or no


	6. freeze, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also known as handong dissociates

Handong loses track of time very quickly, sitting in the front seat of this car. The rain starts coming down hard enough to blur any familiar sights - or maybe that’s her vision. She can’t tell. She doesn’t know when she started crying, but she does know that Du hasn’t noticed yet. Or maybe he has and he’s ignoring it. She can’t say for certain. She can’t say anything for certain, except that she’s in a car, and she’s been in the car for more than ten minutes. 

Du pulls off the highway somewhere by a forest. “Alright,” he says. His voice has dulled, lost that fervor from before. He slams the car into park. “We gotta walk the rest of the way.” 

Handong doesn’t move. She curls her fingers into her knees. “Where are we going?” she says. Her voice is shaking. She tries to breathe steadily, but it’s impossible to hide that she’s been crying. 

"You’ll find out eventually.” He takes the keys out of the ignition. “Come on.” 

He gets out of the car. She doesn’t move. Her eyes stay trained on the tree trunk in front of her. The driver’s side door shuts. 

Maybe he’s walking away, some part of her says, except that doesn’t make sense. He isn’t in sight, though. She takes a deep breath and lets herself move to wipe the tears from her cheek. Sitting here, doing nothing, stalling, it’s not going to get her anywhere. Better to cooperate for now. She still doesn’t move. 

Her door opens and Du leans down to her level. “Hey. Get out of the car.” He puts his hand on his belt. 

“Tell me where we’re going,” she replies, turning to look at him. It’s hard to keep eye contact, because his gaze burns with something almost akin to madness that Handong does not want to think about for too long. 

He shakes his head. “Can’t do that,” he says. He reaches into the car and tilts her head up. “Are you _crying_?” 

She doesn’t respond, just flinches away from him. It burns, burns, burns. She flicks her eyes back and forth, looking around, searching for an exit. Theoretically, she could kick up, knock him down, and run. She could take the keys from him and use them as a weapon. She could take the keys and steal the car. She could do anything, and all of her muscles are screaming at her to move, but she can’t. She’s stuck. She swallows. 

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Du says, snapping her out of her thoughts. “C’mon. Choice is yours.” 

She remains like a statue. 

Du sighs and unhooks his handcuffs from his belt. “I really didn’t wanna do this,” he says. He grabs the collar of her hoodie and pulls her out of the car with enough force to make her yelp. Panicked, she sticks her arms out to the side, to try and regain her balance. He grabs one of her wrists and pulls it behind her back. She spins; her foot slips on the wet ground under her. Maybe he gives her a push, maybe she imagines it. 

Next thing she knows, she’s on the ground, her cheek pressed into the cool dirt. Du’s holding her left arm against her back. Her right arm joins it with a loud _pop_. 

She whimpers. 

“That sounded like it hurt,” Du says, lifting his weight from her back. He hooks his hand around her bound wrists and pulls her rather roughly upright. Pain shoots through her right arm every time she moves, every time she breathes. She spits dirt from her mouth. “Relax,” he says. “I’ll get you to a hospital as soon as we get done. Are you going to cooperate, Handong?” 

Handong doesn’t really think anything right now. Her mind is foggy, broken here and there by sharp, throbbing pain. She twists her muddy face to look at him blankly. Du smiles back at her, a wide grin. “Okay,” she says. If she fakes it, she’ll get out of here alive. And relatively intact. 

He marches her forward, jostling her shoulder. She gasps. 

“It won’t get worse from here,” Du says. It sounds like it should be soothing. It has the opposite effect. 

They walk through the rain and the trees for some time. It’s impossible to tell how long. She feels like she’s floating, and there’s nothing around her to tether her down. No voices, no birdsong, nothing but the steady drumming of the rain and the squeak of wet ground under her feet and the occasional electric jolt down her entire arm. Her thoughts have begun to loop. _Stay quiet and calm. Quiet and calm. Quiet and calm. Quiet and calm._ At least she’s not crying anymore.

Out of seemingly nowhere in the trees rises the dark, squat structure of a forest cabin. It’s made of dark planks and covered with vines and moss. A red cloth covers the windows. It seems to have been there for a long time. 

"Here we are,” Du says. He pulls out his ring of keys again and flips through it. “Ten minutes. I just have to show you something.”

Handong doesn’t realize she’s nodding until she’s halfway through the motion. It unnerves her, the building she’s standing in front of. The way that the windows are covered, that the porch bows and creaks as they walk across it, that the house is so isolated remind her too strongly of the horror stories she’s indulged in far too often. She half expects to be thrown forward into an endless black abyss when he pushes the door open. Instead, she’s greeted with a surprisingly cozy looking hallway, with a gold runner on the floor and electric lanterns on the wall. A little cabinet sits on the right side and is dotted with knickknacks and photographs. Du steps aside and lets her go first. “Welcome to our home,” he says, gently. 

“Our home,” Handong echoes, craning her neck to take in all the details. To her left is a little sitting room, a bear rug on the floor, a fireplace, and big plush chairs. Straight shead is a staircase and a huge opening that can only lead to more rooms. It certainly _feels_ like someone’s home. 

“I share this place with a friend of mine,” Du says. “It’s the perfect place for us. We don’t get bothered by people, we can work in peace.” He tosses his keys into a little cup on the cabinet. “Do you like it?” 

Handong takes another step forward, looking around. Sure enough, right in front of the staircase is an area that opens out into a little area set up as a dining room. There’s an open door leading into what’s presumably the kitchen in the corner, and a door leading to either a bathroom or a closet on the other side. Everything is brown or red or orange. Everything just feels so cozy. “It’s nice,” she says. “You live in the woods.”

He laughs. “It was my friend’s idea.” His hand goes on her other shoulder, the one that doesn’t ache anew every few seconds. “Just like it was him who found… _Him_. Come, upstairs is what I want to show you.” 

He steers her towards the narrow staircase, and she obeys. None of this makes sense. Perhaps it’s the dissociation. She tears her gaze from a taxidermy deer head mounted just above the decently-sized curved screen TV so she doesn’t trip and finds herself looking directly at a huge, ornately carved, oddly colored hunting knife framed and hanging at the top of the stairs. She jumps and nearly falls down the stairs. Du catches her. Pain tears through her arm again. "Something wrong?" he asks, righting her. 

"Just a little startled, is all," she replies. She winces. "Could you un-cuff me?"

"No." 

He guides her up to the top of the stairs and around, down a hallway. A large window overlooks the woods around them. The rain has only gotten harder. He pushes her onwards, and she forces herself to look straight ahead. _Just cooperate_ , she reminds herself. _You’ll be fine._

He leads her to the very last door; the walls seem to get smaller as they walk. He pauses, his hand on the doorknob. “Close your eyes,” he says, a weird smile on his face. “I want to surprise you.” 

She obeys. She doesn’t feel like she has a choice. 

The door squeaks open, releasing the oppressive smell of hospital-grade cleaner and underneath that, some sweet metallic tang that she can’t place. There’s a hand on her goo shoulder, pushing her forward. She takes a step, another step. The scent is making her nose itch. 

“Open your eyes,” he orders. 

This room is dimly lit, compared to the rest of the house. It has no windows, and only a single lamp dangles from the ceiling. Handong scans the walls - bare - and the floor - covered by one worn rug, of an unknown color - before finally staring at the table in the center. Lying atop of it is _very_ clearly a skeleton, perhaps a dog or a fox judging from size, with the head missing and the ribcage stuffed with flowers. Some are dead, some are dying, some are weirdly alive and colorful. It is surrounded by candles in various colors and shapes and sizes. None of them are lit. Mounted on the wall just above the dog is a long hunting knife. This one is oddly shiny, as if it had just been cleaned. 

“What do you think?” Du asks. He sounds excited, like he’s showing her a piece of art of a manuscript. Maybe this is art to him. Handong turns to look at him, swallows the fear in her throat. His eyes are wide. Anticipation leaks from every orifice. 

She wants to speak, but her mouth won’t move, her breathing is shallow, her head is spinning. She shifts, takes a step back. “What did you _do_ ?” she whispers. “What _is_ this?” 

“This-” Du parries her, stretches his arms out wide- “is only the beginning. This is art, this is poetry, this is what He _wants_ from me, Handong.” He smiles, a wide grin that seems to cut his face in two. “This is death and life, nature and nurture, blood and sweat and tears, and-and-and…” He brings in his hands to his fast, curls them into fists, laughs - or sobs, or something like that. “It could be in my hands, Handong. It could be in _your_ hands.” He comes close, far too close for comfort, and cups her face in his. She’s never described him as _looming_ before. 

She shakes her head. “You’re _mad_ , Du,” she says. “Did you kill the dog?”

“It starts with a dog and it ends with the world,” he says. He drops her face. “He wants more from me, and I can’t do it alone. We could be the _gods_ of a new world, Handong.” Shakes her shoulders. She whimpers. “ _Gods_. Do you understand me?”

“No!” she says. She tries to wriggle away from him. “No, I don’t understand you. _Who_ is he? The voice in your head?” He only holds her tighter. She wonders if she could break the handcuffs. She probably can’t. 

“I have been given a divine duty,” Du says, the smile on his face vanishing like _that_. “To fix this world. There is only one way to do that, Handong - end it all and start over. If you come with me, we will become gods. We can remake the world how we want it. Do you not want to join me?” 

If she refuses, she will die. If she accepts, she will kill. There is no right answer. There is nothing she can do. So she does nothing, and just stares at him, desperately scanning his face for anything, any part of him that she can reach out to and pull him back from this hell he’s fallen into. She squirms in his grip. “Do… Do you remember, when we were kids, and we’d play in the woods?” she ventures. “And we’d spend hours there, building little forts and pretending to be king and queen of our own little kingdom, and then when we were done, we’d kick everything over and start fresh the next day?” She watches his face flicker and she presses harder. “Don’t you think that it’s time to that here? Kick everything over and start all over again?” He lets go of her, takes a step back. She smiles shakily. “This isn’t _right_ -”

And then he slaps her, backhand, with such force that she stumbles backward and slams into the wall. Her eyes water, though whether it’s from pain or the blow, she can’t tell. Her legs give out from under her. She plummets to the floor. “You…” Du says. He balls his hands into fists. “I don’t know why I trusted you. You’ve always been the weak one.” He crouches down and curls his hand into the hem of her hoodie. “I gave you a chance, and you chickened out of it.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone, please let me go, please, please, please,” Handong starts saying, and then the tears are coming and she can’t stop them. She squirms desperately, leaning away from his icy stare. “I would help you if I could, but I-”

Downstairs, the front door opens with a loud _creak_ , and Du stands abruptly, dropping her to the floor. “Shut up,” he says. "Shut up!" He clenches and unclenches his hands. "You lost your chance to help."

"Du?" a new voice calls from somewhere, in Korean. "You good?" There's something about it that feels familiar, like she's heard him speak before.

"Fine!" Du grits his teeth. "I'll be down in a moment!"

"Take your time, bro - wait, did something come up?"

He turns on his heel and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him in his wake. Handong is alone in a dim room with a skeleton full of flowers, a freshly cleaned knife, and a thousand worries spinning around her head.


	7. see you laters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where it starts getting really fucked up. apology in advance, for whatever happens next. this is also the last warning im gonna give in general. 
> 
> tw here for hospitals.

Handong does not return from the store before Yoobin and Bora come back. She does not return when they were supposed to leave for their flight. She does not return at all. 

Gahyeon sits in the common area, her phone in her hands but asleep, in silence. Bora is on the other end of the couch, talking in hushed tones to Siyeon, who’s sort of crouched next to her. Yoohyeon is sitting backwards on a chair, Minji is pacing, and Yoobin has disappeared into the bathroom. 

“I don’t understand,” Minji says. “She just went to get a charger.” 

“I told you,” Bora half snaps. “She’s been kidnapped by that buddy of hers. We saw her in the car.” 

Siyeon puts her hand on her shoulder. “The police told us they were investigating. We’ll know what happened soon.”

Minji groans, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “It’s been  _ hours _ . Hours and hours and hours. She was supposed to be home by now, and Lord knows where she  _ actually _ is.” 

Gahyeon hits the button on her phone to open it, half checking for some important news to break and half desperately trying to avoid the world. She scrolls through her Instagram, her eyes bouncing from image to image. 

“It can’t have been that bad,” Minji says, her voice getting that  _ edge _ to it that makes Gahyeon start to panic. “Like, it was someone she knew, that’s not that bad.” She pulls her phone out. “Please, Dad, I’ve never needed you to call more in my  _ life _ .” 

“Once we hear back from the police, we’ll be fine,” Siyeon says. 

Gahyeon double-taps a picture of a dog. “Yeah,” Bora says. “Fine. What if she’s-”

“Don’t,” Minji says. “Just, don’t. We can’t think about it.” 

“Fine, I’ll just shut up then-”

“The problem is,” Yoobin interrupts, and everyone stops to look at her. She’s folded her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall. “The problem’s that he’s a cop, too. He’s got resources that he can theoretically hide from the rest of them. We should’ve followed him. We could’ve gotten him by now, could’ve kept Handong safe.” 

Bora shakes her head. “Are you crazy? We had one gun that we weren’t even supposed to have. If we had failed, we could’ve been arrested.”

“And Handong could’ve been on a plane home at this point, if we hadn’t. Now we’re stuck with neither possibility.” 

“Yoobin,” Siyeon says. She’s putting her hand on Bora’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I never said it was-”

“ _ Stop _ ,” Gahyeon interrupts, her phone falling from her hands. “Just stop. Both? All of you.” She stoops to pick up the device and sits up to find everyone staring at her. “Um.”

Siyeon and Bora exchange a glance, Yoohyeon turns gently back to her phone, Minji sighs and resumes her pacing. “Are you okay, Gahyeon?” Bora says, her face twisting into a pseudo-sympathetic smile. 

Gahyeon shakes her head slowly.  _ Breathe, Gahyeon _ . She sniffles in some air. It has no effect. “None of us are,” she mumbles, and she pulls at her pop socket and pushes it down and pulls and pushes and pulls and pushes and-

“Maybe,” Yoohyeon says, lifting one of her hands, “we could stop yelling at each other?” She swivels around so she’s sitting properly on the armchair. “It’s not helping us…”

Bora slouches and leans her face in her hands. Yoobin combs her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she says. 

“I’m just worried,” Bora whispers. Siyeon slides up onto the couch proper and lets the other girl lean on her. She beckons Gahyeon to come over with one hand. Gahyeon obliges and buries her cheek in her friend’s shoulder. 

Minji nods, half grimacing, half smiling sadly. She takes a breath, about to speak, and then the phone in her pocket rings and she squeaks. “Oh! Oh my god, it’s Dad,” she stammers. She fumbles to get it out. “Okay, okay, this could be really good, or really, really- Hey, Dad!” She presses the phone to her ear. 

Gahyeon sinks deeper into Siyeon’s shoulder, praying, praying, praying, her eyes squeezed shut. She squeezes the older girl into a hug so tightly that she’s afraid it hurts, but she isn’t shoved off, so she assumes it’s okay. Deep, shuddering breath. She shuts her eyes.

Minji doesn’t talk for a long time. “Is everything okay?” Yoohyeon asks, only to be shushed by  _ someone  _ that’s probably Yoobin. “Oop.”

“Oh, no,” Minji says. Her voice is muffled. “Okay. You want me to come up and…  _ identify _ it? Her? Them? Okay. Well, it might… Not be, so it’s… It’s okay, Dad. It’s not… Right. I’ll be right over. Thank you.” 

Gahyeon risks opening one eye. Minji is pressing her hands to her face. “Does anyone want to come with me to the hospital?” she says, all in one breath and after a  _ very _ long pause. “Dad says there was a person - a woman - discovered and brought in by one of the officers and she didn’t have ID and was unconscious.” She swallows. “So he asked me to come in to make sure that it’s her. Or isn’t. Hopefully, it’s not, but he wants to make sure…”

“Oh, no,” Bora says.

“Please, guys. I don’t wanna do this alone.” Minji looks around desperately, her gaze bouncing from person to person. 

Yoobin shakes her head. “I don’t think I should go, sorry,” she says. 

“I really don’t think I should,” Yoohyeon stammers. “I mean, if it  _ is _ , then-”

Gahyeon peels her cheek from Siyeon’s shoulder and clears her throat. “I’ll go,” she says. She pulls her arm from behind the other’s back. “I kinda told her to go out anyway and get the charger instead of just buying one myself and letting her take mine or something.” She sniffs, loudly. 

“Are you sure, Gahyeon?” Minji says. “I don’t-”

“I’m okay.” She wipes at her eyes before they can betray her and pushes herself to her feet. “I’ll be okay. Besides, you have to stay strong for me, now, hm?” She smiles weakly and steps around the coffee table. 

Minji reaches for her hand. “Anyone else?” she offers. 

No one makes a move to respond. Gahyeon squeezes Minji’s hand tightly. She suddenly feels  _ very _ cold. She tugs at the hem of her oversized sweater. 

“I’ll start dinner,” Yoohyeon says. She pushes herself out of the armchair, stretches. “Give something for you to look forward to.” 

Bora nods. “I can help,” she says. She smiles, just a bit. “Siyeon, I think you’ve cooked enough today.” 

Siyeon covers her mouth in mock offense. “Hey. It turned out fine in the end… Minus my shirt.” She crosses her arms. 

Hurrying over to her, Yoohyeon taps her head. “Fine, you’ll do the dishes, then!” she says. 

“Wh- Hey!” Siyeon gets up, and now she’s smiling, too, and she swats at Yoohyeon’s hand. “That’s not what I meant!”

“Ah, but it’s what you’ll get,” Yoohyeon chirps, and she stumbles backwards towards the kitchen,  _ almost _ falling. 

Gahyeon sniffs. There’s a soft smile on her face. “Damn, that really was just today,” she says. “I almost forgot.” 

“I didn’t,” Minji says. “Siyeon owes me a new shirt.” She squeezes Gahyeon’s hand back. “Should we go now?” 

Gahyeon nods, and the two head out towards the doorway just in time to hear Siyeon yelp and something else hit the floor. Minji rolls her eyes. “At least we’ll have something waiting for us,” she says as they head down the steps.

“Did you remember your mask?” Gahyeon says. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.”

The rain comes in fits and bursts, sparingly enough that neither bother to bring an umbrella, but often enough that Gahyeon’s sweater is still uncomfortably damp by the time she slips into the passenger seat. Minji twists the keys in the ignition. She’s smiling, but it feels fake, and it doesn’t last long at all. Gahyeon watches it drop from her face before they’re even out of the parking lot. She turns her gaze away and plays with the end of her sleeve. 

“They’ll be fine,” Minji says, seemingly to no one. It startles Gahyeon. 

“Huh?” she says. 

The older girl waves her hand. “They’ll be okay, I think. At least, till we come back, with…  _ Fuck _ .” She drops her head onto the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, they’ll be fine,” Gahyeon agrees, scratching at her arm. 

Minji only looks up again when a horn starts honking behind them. “I’m terrified, dude,” she says. “I’m trying to stay calm, but like, there’s nowhere that my brain is going except the  _ worst _ , and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Me either,” Gahyeon says, which feels like a flat and pathetic response, but she really can’t tell what she’s supposed to say. “She’s not stupid, she’d…”

“She’s not stupid. And she’s strong, too, so-  _ Shit _ !” Minji’s cut off by her phone ringing from her pocket. “Uh, uh, crap, why now, he knows I’m driving, oh my god, here!” She wrenches it out of her pocket and practically chucks it at Gahyeon. She only miraculously manages to catch it. “Put it on speaker.”

Gahyeon looks down at the phone screen and does so. “Minji?” crackles the officer’s familiar voice. 

“I’m here, Dad,” Minji says. She waves one of her hands at the mount on the air vent. “What’s up?” Her voice is surprisingly steady. Gahyeon wishes she knew how to do that. 

“I have good news, and I have bad news. Really, really bad news.” He coughs. 

Gahyeon glances at Minji, who has chosen to look straight ahead. “...Good news first,” the older girl ventures. 

“The girl that I was worried about isn’t Handong.”

Both of them sigh in relief. Gahyeon covers her mouth with her hand to try and hold back the tears. “Who is it?” Minji asks. There’s an odd smile on her face. 

“No one you knew, and no one I’m allowed to discuss anyway.” He shuffles something on his end. “The bad news is, we found her, and… I’m afraid of what you have to see. I know how close you were to her, and-”

“ _ Were _ ?” Gahyeon squeaks, before she can help herself. “Wait, Officer Kim, she’s-”

“We’ll be there in five minutes, Dad,” Minji says. “I’m going to hang up to focus on- on driving.” She swipes to hang up before her father can respond. 

Gahyeon whimpers. “She’s  _ dead _ ?” she says. “She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead-”

“Please, please, please, for the love of God, stop talking,” Minji says. She shakes her head. “I have to be able to  _ see _ to get to the hospital.”

Gahyeon snaps her jaw shut hard enough that it hurts. Her heart hammers in her chest, loud enough that she’s  _ certain _ Minji can hear it. She sort of hugs herself and sways back and forth. Her brain rockets back and forth between bad thought to worse like she’s the ball in a twisted game of ping pong. 

Handong’s definitely dead. Except she might not be - maybe she’s only  _ dying _ and they don’t know if she’ll make it. Maybe a miracle’s going to occur in the OR. Maybe God’s watching out for them. Maybe she should remember to breathe. 

She sucks in a rapid breath between her teeth to try and settle her nerves. It doesn’t work and it just makes Minji sort of choke out a laugh-sob hybrid. “S-S-Sorry,” she stammers, pressing the sleeves of her sweater to her eyes. “I’m try-trying.”

She focuses all of her energy on whatever positivity she can wring out of this  _ fucked up situation _ on the rest of the ride there. Before today, she’s never considered herself a religious person, but she prays more in these five minutes than she’s probably prayed in her life. It does very little to help. 

Minji doesn’t even bother to find a proper parking space. They’ve managed to spread out over five separate spots, but it doesn’t matter. “C’mon,” she whispers, practically kicking her door open. “Gimme your hand.” 

Gahyeon  _ gladly _ obliges that. She squeezes Minji’s hand so tightly that it  _ must _ hurt, it hurts her, and lets herself be dragged across the parking lot and through the sliding doors of the hospital. A receptionist in a pretty purple pair of scrubs and tortoiseshell glasses nods with way too much energy at them. “Is something wrong?” she says, tapping a couple of keys on her computer. 

“Where’s Officer Kim?” Minji says. She’s squeezing Gahyeon’s hand back. She’s shaking. Or maybe  _ Gahyeon’s _ shaking - it’s not clear. She loops her arm around Minji’s and clings like a child. 

“Um, he’s- He’s in the emergency room, I believe- Are you here to see him? Because he’s not-” 

“No, I’m his daughter, and he’s with one of our best friends,  _ please _ just let us in.” Minji’s begging now, and the sound makes Gahyeon sick. “Please. It’s  _ really _ bad.”

Gahyeon guesses the receptionist gets it, because she doesn’t argue, just mumbles a room number and points them down the hall, and then they’re running again, and there’s pure adrenaline swirling around Gahyeon’s body, and she feels like she’s going to faint and like she’s ready to run a marathon at the same time. Time has slowed down. She is aware of  _ everything _ . 

They swing around the door, into a tiny room that’s got way too many people in it. On one side, left of the bed, is a nurse with a clipboard; next to her stands Minji’s father, a somber look hidden behind his glasses; opposite him is someone else, another officer that Gahyeon doesn’t recognize. The only sound is the high pitched screech of a flatlining monitor. “Time of death,” the nurse is saying as she writes, “twenty-two thirty-two.”

“No,” Minji says. 

Gahyeon says nothing, just clings tighter to Minji’s arm, because if she doesn’t, she’s going to drop to the ground like a stone and never get up again. She stares at the body - at  _ Handong’s body _ \- on the bed in front of them. Even with a bloody bandage stretched over her eyes, even clad in a generic hospital gown, Gahyeon can tell that  _ that’s Handong _ , and she stares. What can only be blood has trickled from beneath the bandages and drips across two sets of stitches going down her face. Further stitches line her collarbone, in what might be a Y-pattern, if all the crime shows Gahyeon’s binged have taught her anything. Her wrists, spread out on the bed in front of her, are ringed with bruises, and one of her shoulders slumps far too low. It’s horrible. Gahyeon can’t tear her eyes away. 

“I can send her to you for autopsy, but that will only tell us what finally killed her,” the nurse is saying. Her voice is too smooth, too unaffected. “It was  _ clearly _ murder.”

_ Murder _ . 

The word bounces around her skull. Someone  _ murdered  _ Handong. Someone got it into their head to kill and settled on  _ her _ , not anyone else. Of all the women in Seoul. Or in Korea. Or in the world. 

“Pardon me, Nurse Kyeong,” Officer Kim is saying, “but that is not your call to make. We will investigate as we see fit, determine what conclusions can be drawn, and go from there. Thank you for doing what you could.” 

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone for now. If there’s anything you need, do not hesitate to ring the bell.” She hurries out, her heels clicking on the floor, and leaves a comforting squeeze on Gahyeon’s shoulder that has absolutely no effect besides making her whimper. 

Minji starts pulling her arm free, and there’s another pair of arms guiding her towards something that turns out to be a chair when she is dropped on it. It faces the bed. “Let’s get you over  _ here _ ,” an unfamiliar voice says. 

“ _ Handong _ ,” Gahyeon says, her voice cracking. “Handong, please, please, please.” She stretches her hand out and grabs one of her friend’s. It’s far too cold and far too heavy. “You can’t be  _ dead _ , you- you can’t be, this is a nightmare, please wake up. Please wake up. Please.” 

“I’m sorry, Minji,” Officer Kim says. “I wish this were different, too. She was such a nice girl.”

Gahyeon stares at Handong’s body, hoping and praying that this is all some sick joke, that if she just claps her hands and believes life will return and her chest will lift again, and she squeezes her hand - which is already starting to stiffen - and breathes out a ragged sob. “You’re not  _ dead,  _ you’re not  _ dead _ , please, you’re not dead.” She pulls the chair forward and rests her head on the mattress of the bed. Her entire body shakes as she cries.

Someone puts their hand on her back, and she tilts her head to look at them. It’s the other officer, with a sympathetic look etched on his rough face. “I know,” he says, rubbing small circles across her shoulder. “I loved her, too.” 

“Who- Who are you?” Gahyeon asks. She sniffs. “S-Sorry, I, um, don’t think we- we’ve met.”

He laughs, sort of. He looks very distant. “We haven’t,” he says. He tugs another chair forward and sits down; even sitting, he’s at least got half a foot on her. “Officer Du Shiang. I worked with your father-” He points at Officer Kim. 

Gahyeon sort of smiles. “We’re not sisters,” she says. “Just friends. Hers, too…” She risks a glance at Handong again, who hasn’t moved, and feels part of her heart snap. “ _ We _ were roommates…” Her voice breaks again. She wipes her eyes. 

“Oh.” He nods, in recognition, sort of, lifts his hand. “You must be Miss Gahyeon, then. She told me about you. A bit, not a lot. Nothing bad. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, last night, but she told me about you, and… Well, the others.” He shrugs. 

“She never told me about you,” Gahyeon says. Du Shiang. The name doesn’t ring a bell. “How did you know her?” 

Officer Shiang seems surprised. “Not even once?” he says. He sounds almost offended. “That’s strange. We were best friends as children. It’s… Fine. I understand why she wouldn’t want to talk about her childhood.”

“Did… Something bad happen?” 

He shakes his head. “Nothing beyond typical childhood bullying, but it affected her a lot. It’s why she went to school here, to start over. Course it’s...Where she ended, I guess.” He sighs and leans forward. 

Childhood best friends. 

Something about  _ that _ rings a bell. 

“Shiang,” Officer Kim says. “You didn’t see anyone when you found her?” 

The other man shakes his head. “Nope. No one was in the car but me and my buddy. No one should’ve been around for miles, anyway. It’s a wonder how she ended up there.” He sighs. “Wish I could help you more. I’ll do as much as I can to help, sir.”

“I can trust that.” Officer Kim lets go of Minji, who’s burrowed thoroughly into his shoulder. “Let’s get you girls home.”

“Can you come with us, Dad?” Minji pleads. 

He nods. “Of course. I can’t let you face this alone.” He sighs. “I know I can’t bring her back, but I promise we’ll find who did this. It’s the least we can do for you six.” 

_ Six _ . 

“Thank you, Dad,” Minji says.

They are six now. The thought hurts.   


Gahyeon looks back at Handong. She’s already taken on this gray pallor, already frozen stiff in rigor mortis. She’s gone. She’s not going to come back. “I-I don’t want to say goodbye,” Gahyeon whimpers. “I w-wasn’t supposed to say goodbye today.” 

“No one was,” Minji says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took SO long to get this up not because i had writer's block but because my fucking laptop took four hours to update. immediately after this i have to go to bed.


	8. good night

By some miracle, there is something edible sitting in the center of the kitchen table before Minji and Gahyeon get back, despite the yelling and banging and various swear words emanating from the kitchen while Siyeon and Yoohyeon tried to put something together. 

“Ta-da!” Yoohyeon cheers, gesturing at it. “Pizza!”

Yoobin hesitates near the door, her gaze flickering between the Australia-shaped, cheese-covered, oddly shiny pizza and the two flour-covered girls who made it. “It sure is?” Bora says, trying to stifle a giggle. 

“What did you two _do_?” Yoobin asks, waving her hands at Siyeon and Yoohyeon. “Did you like, purposefully throw flour at each other?”

Yoohyeon’s immediate response is to point at Siyeon. “She started it!” she says with all the dignity of a kindergartner. “I just… Couldn’t let her win.” 

Siyeon shakes her head. “You tossed it on _me_ -”

“By _accident_!” 

“You guys are like _children_ ,” Bora says, rolling her eyes playfully. She elbows Yoobin’s side. “Go, now, while they’re distracted!” She starts for the table, and Yoobin follows. She nearly trips over Bora’s legs. 

“Hey!” Yoohyeon says. “That’s not fair-”

“Pizza cutter! Pizza cutter!” Bora reaches across the table for the round implement, but Siyeon’s snatched it out of her reach and holds it way up in the air and _way_ too close Yoohyeon’s nose. Yoobin flinches, Yoohyeon screams. 

“Dude, are you _trying_ to kill me?” she says, but she’s laughing as she says it. “It’s just pizza, no need to go that deep.”

Siyeon pulls the pizza cutter down and grins deviously. “Or does it?” she taunts, and she pretends to stab at the air. 

Yoohyeon shakes her head. “No, no, no, please, I have a wife and- and- kids,” she stammers. Her voice is broken up by giggles. She falls to the ground and disappears from Yoobin’s vision.

“Minji doesn’t count and neither does Pie,” Siyeon says. She is now brandishing the pizza cutter like a sword. “Take that. The pizza’s mine now.”

Yoobin sighs. “Yoohyeon has been vanquished,” Bora says, clapping her hands. “Now can we eat? It’s like, ten-thirty.”

The taller girl nods. “Yeah, once I figure out how to cut this… thing.” She leans over the pizza. “There’s not really an even slice, um.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be a _problem_ ,” Yoohyeon sputters as she pulls herself upright again,” if you haven’t gotten in the way-”

“Oh well. I’ll just give the little piece to Yoohyeon,” Siyeon says with a nonchalant shrug. She runs the pizza cutter through the pie at a weird diagonal angle. 

“Hey!” Luckily, this time she doesn’t cause much of a fuss, just mopes her way back to the table and leans on Siyeon’s shoulder. “C’mon,” she whines. “Let me eat my own damn _food_.” 

“No.” Siyeon twists around and grabs a paper plate out of the cupboard behind her. “Here you go, Bora.”

Bora beams and reaches across Yoobin to take it. All she does is lean back. Suddenly, she is not very hungry. She steps away from the table. “Okay, no offense, but I don’t think I can eat that much cheese right now,” she says. “You can have mine, Yoohyeon.”

“Someone likes me,” Yoohyeon says. She tilts her head at the younger. “Are you good, Yoobin?”

Yoobin shrugs. “Just nervous, is all. A bit nauseous. You understand.” She flexes her hands, rests them on the back of a chair. 

“It’s good,” Bora says, with a mouthful of pizza. “Maybe it’ll help. Little greasy though.” 

Yoobin grimaces. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass,” she says.

“Okay?” Siyeon says. She pauses, already sliding another slice - or chunk, or sector, or whatever other word could describe the trapezoid she is holding - onto a paper plate. “I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk about it.”

Yoohyeon snatches it from her before anyone can complain, and Yoobin smiles a bit at that. “Bottling it up ain’t healthy, dude. Like, I know I don’t shut up, but I also think I have the least anxiety of everyone currently in this room, so, lose-win?” She takes a bite. “Why is it so salty?” 

“I’ll be fine once we know what happened to her,” Yoobin replies. “It’s pointless worrying, anyway.” 

Siyeon and Bora exchange a quick glance. Yoobin wishes she knew what they were telling each other. “Do you feel emotions?” Bora asks eventually. “Like, human emotions? You’re so calm all the time, it’s a little scary.”

That actually makes her laugh. Yoohyeon tries to nudge her, misses, laughs harder. “What other emotions could I be experiencing, Bora?” Yoobin says. She lifts her hands. “Oh, god, you’ve learned my secret, now I have to return to my home planet. Look what you’ve done. You’ve lost me.” 

“No,” Yoohyeon says, drawing the word out dramatically. “Bora-a-a, what have you _done_?” She leans on Siyeon’s shoulder and giggles. 

“Good-bye, friends,” Yoobin says, slowly backing out of the kitchen. “I shall never forget you, until they wipe my memory of this life-”

She’s cut off by the opening of the main doorway. Fast enough to almost give her whiplash, she snaps her head around and makes eye contact with a very red-eyed Gahyeon, who flinches and turns around, looping her arms around Minji. “I don’t wanna tell them,” she says. Her voice is flimsy, wavering. “They’re having fun.” 

Behind both of them stands Minji’s father, his face hidden behind square sunglasses and a plain black mask. He mumbles something that sounds like “I hate this part.” 

Yoobin looks back into the kitchen and waves her hand. The remaining trio are staring at her, frozen- Bora has her pizza halfway to her mouth. “They’re back,” she says. “And Handong’s not with them.”

Gahyeon whimpers. “I c-can’t,” she stammers. 

“You don’t have to,” Minji says. “It’s okay.”

There’s a scraping of chairs and a loud _plop_ as something presumably cheesy hits the floor. When Yoobin turns back around, Gahyeon’s running down the hall, and the others are filtering into the common area. 

“Um, good evening, Officer Kim,” Siyeon says, awkwardly. Her eyes are wide. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Officer Kim sighs. “Good evening, Siyeon.” He lifts his cap and runs a hand over his thinning hair. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

He’s got that professional tone to his voice that Yoobin can only ever recall hearing once before, and for a much different reason. She swallows - her mouth is dry - and shoves her hands in the pocket of her hoodie to hide the way they’ve started to shake. 

Minji crosses away from her father, beckoning people to join her on the couch. She, too, looks like she’s been crying. which does absolutely nothing to ease Yoobin’s anxiety. Something _very bad_ has happened. That part is obvious. 

There are five people crammed onto one sofa - her and Yoohyeon on one side, Siyeon and Minji on the other, and Bora squished right in the middle. It feels both stifling and comforting at the same time. Yoohyeon loops her arm through Yoobin’s and leans against her. 

“So,” Siyeon says. She’s staring at Officer Kim. 

He sighs. Once again he lifts his hat. “I… regret to inform you, that, unfortunately, Miss Handong is dead.”

Yoobin stops breathing. Her heartbeat seems to slow. She stares directly through Minji’s father. She stares at nothing at all. _Dead_. 

“What?” Bora squeaks, snapping Yoobin back into reality. “She’s… dead?” 

The policeman nods. “I’m sorry,” he says. “She died not too long ago. So far, it looks like she was killed _by_ someone, but we can’t say for certain now. It’s too early in the investigation.” He sighs. “I wish I had better news.”

“No,” Yoohyeon says. She whimpers. “That can’t be right. She was just going to get a charger. How did…” 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Bora says. 

Siyeon shakes her head. “This can’t be true, it- it _can’t_ be,” she says, and she desperately stares at Minji. Minji grabs her hands, but avoid eye contact. “It was someone else. You saw someone else, right?” 

“No,” Minji whispers, barely. “I saw her. Gahyeon saw her.” Her shoulders slump even further, somehow. “That weird officer we met last night, he brought her _in_.” 

Yoobin tenses, concern flickering into her mind. She thinks back to the car ride, to the panic she saw in Handong’s eyes, and casts a quick glance at Bora, who is pointedly looking away. _I knew it_ , she thinks, digging her fingers into her knee. _I_ fucking _knew it._

The thought opens a hole in the bottom of her gut. She tenses harder.

“Ow,” Yoohyeon hisses. She wriggles her arm out of Yoobin’s. “Are you okay? You’re like, breaking my elbow.” She rubs her forearm. “Not like, okay, I meant-”

Yoobin shakes her head. “I think I need to take a walk,” she says. “This is a lot to handle.” Her head is spinning, and she feels a little sick. She doesn’t – didn’t – want to be right here. She slips out from behind Yoohyeon and rubs a cramp out of her leg. 

“Miss Yoobin, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Officer Kim says. He holds out a hand, as if to stop her, even though she’s still across the room. “It’s nearly midnight. We don’t want you getting hurt out there. I know that this is hard.”

Yoobin pushes her sleeves up. “I could go with you,” Siyeon offers, gently untangling herself from the couch. “Have a buddy system.” She stands next to Yoobin. 

“I won’t go far, just up to the roof.” _I just need to get out of here._ She glances at Bora, who is now staring at her, darts her gaze away towards Minji, who’s found the ground very interesting all of a sudden, back to Officer Kim. 

“You’re allowed to cry in front of us,” Yoohyeon says. 

“If Siyeon goes with you,” Minji’s father says. 

Yoobin wastes absolutely no time and crosses the common room fast enough to surprise even herself. Once she’s outside, she stops and practically throws herself over the railing of the stairs. Here is where her legs give out. She’s not making it to the roof. She lets the railing support her.

“Oh, my God,” she breathes, staring down at the wet pavement. 

“Yoobin,” Siyeon says. She locks the door behind her. “What the hell?” Steps down so she’s next to her. “You know it’s not your fault.”

Yoobin sighs, her breathing shallow. “It’s not,” she echoes. She flips her hood over her hair. “That’s not the problem.” 

Siyeon puts her hand on her back. “So, what is?” 

There’s a voice in Yoobin’s head that’s distinctly not her own, nagging her, yelling at her, begging her not to talk. There’s also a different voice that keeps repeating the words _Handong is dead, Handong is dead_ over and over and over again. The overlapping makes her head hurt. She leans up to look at the older girl. “I don’t know.” 

Siyeon grabs the back of her hoodie and pulls her gently upright. “God, Yoobin,” she says. “That doesn’t help at all. Do you want a hug?” 

“You don’t give the greatest hugs.”

“It’s what you got. C’mere.” She pulls Yoobin in, and Yoobin doesn’t think she has a choice. She sinks into the hug more than she anticipated, rests her cheek on Siyeon’s collarbone. The panic is settling, but the bad feeling remains. She loops her arms around Siyeon and sighs. 

Siyeon’s breathing shudders for a moment. “Do not,” Yoobin says, holding her a bit tighter. “Just _don’t_.” 

“I’m _trying_ ,” Siyeon replies. “Fuck. Handong gives the best hugs.” Beat. “Gave. _Fuck._ ” She _actually_ squeezes, hard enough that Yoobin can barely breathe. 

Yoobin wriggles, coughs a little, lets out a tiny cry. “Ow,” she squeaks. Siyeon immediately lets go, and she steps backwards, wiping her eyes. 

“Oh, my God, are you okay?" she sputters, holding Yoobin at arm's length. "I don’t want to _hurt_ you, oh no."

Yoobin nods. "Fine," she says. "Physically. I'm okay." She looks back out over the parking lot of the building, tracking the pattern of a pair of headlights with her eyes. "I think I'm gonna stay out here a bit longer, if that is okay." She sniffs in a breath. "I don't…" She trails off. There are several ways she could complete that sentence; _I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to face Bora. I don't want to say too much._ None of the ones she can say out loud are true. "You get it, right?"

Siyeon sighs. “Okay,” she says. She leans against the railing and stares straight ahead. 

Yoobin pulls her hood over her face. 

It gets too cold to stay out after a while - Yoobin’s not sure how long, just that she runs into Officer Kim on the way back in. Instinctively, she stiffens passing him by. Part of the weight in her chest evaporates once he’s out of the dorm. 

_Christ. He’s Minji’s_ dad, she thinks, pulling at her hoodie. _He’s not going to hurt you_. 

Her hands have started shaking again. She hides them in her pocket. 

The common room has mostly emptied - at least, Bora and Yoohyeon have left. Minji is curled up, her knees to her chest, on the couch. She has only one earbud in. “Oh, thank god,” she says, pushing herself to a more upright position. “I was getting worried, it’s like, five degrees out…” She’s stopped crying a while ago, but there’s this dazed look on her face, like she’s only half present. Naturally. Minji saw the body. 

“I’m heading to bed,” Siyeon says. She, too, has settled, though she seems a bit shakier. 

Minji nods and slumps back down. “Sleep well,” she says. 

Siyeon sighs, crossing towards the couch. “C’mon, you look _exhausted_. Your bed’s comfier, I bet.” She holds her hand out for the older girl to take. Yoobin looks away. 

Minji grumbles something. “I don’t wanna move.” 

“At least do that in your bed.” Siyeon grabs Minji’s hand and pulls. “We should all sleep, at this point.” She looks at Yoobin. 

Yoobin looks away. “In a bit. I think I need to take a shower.” She lifts one of her hands in a wave. “I won’t take too long.”

She doesn’t wait to hear a response, just turns and walks down the hallway, stopping only to grab her bathrobe from her room. The light’s off in the bathroom when she opens the door. Good. She needs the space right now.

Twenty minutes, thirty minutes, however long it takes to run out of hot water is however long she stays there. She spends another ten minutes wrapped in a towel, sitting on a toilet and staring into space. She only gets up when she hears the door to the bathroom opening. _Fuck_. In a panic, she throws her bathrobe on and steps out of the stall and comes face to face with one very red-faced Gahyeon. “Oh!” the younger says, and steps back. “Um. Hi.”

“Hello,” Yoobin says. “Are you okay? You ran off before we could talk to you.” 

Gahyeon winces. “Yeah. I’m… Okay, well I’m not fine, but, I’m _fine_.” She looks into the big mirror that lines one of the walls. “I just couldn’t face everyone. Not- Not ever, I think.” She turns on the sink and runs her fingers under it. “I’ve been trying to sleep, but it’s just so quiet in my room, and-and, fuck, I’m gonna start crying again.” She splashes some water on her face and goes silent. 

Yoobin doesn’t know what to say, or if she even should say anything, so she just stands there and puts a hand on Gahyeon’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” she says. 

Gahyeon covers her face with her hand, her shoulder hiked up to her ear. She tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out more of a gasp. “I-I-I,” she stutters. “I saw what happened to her, all those bandages.” Weakly, she wipes her eyes and grabs at her shoulders. “Yoobin, it was- _horrible_ , and someone _did_ that to her. I c-can’t imagine- why would- who would- It was-”

“Shh,” Yoobin says. She adjusts her bathrobe before opening her arms and wrapping the younger girl in a hug. 

Gahyeon sniffs. “She had n-no _eyes_ ,” she mumbles. “There was just- just this bandage and-and-and who would do that, why would, oh, my God.”

Yoobin tenses. “Wh-what?” she says. 

“Uh-huh.” Gahyeon pulls away, wipes her eyes again. “And there was this line here-” she points at her collarbone- “and here-” points at the other side- “and it looked so _planned_ , like, like, a serial killer or something, and I don’t wanna think about _that_ .” She’s gone pale beneath the flush from crying. “What if it _is_ a serial killer? Is one of us next? Oh, God, I don’t want to die, or you to die, or Yoohyeon to die, or-or-or _anyone_.” 

“You need to go to sleep,” Yoobin says, putting her hands on Gahyeon’s shoulders. “You’re starting to overthink.”

“I c-can’t.”

“You have to try.” 

Gahyeon takes another deep breath, this one a little less shaky. “I am. It’s too quiet, I just can’t handle it.” Inhale, exhale; at least she’s calming down. 

“Maybe a white noise app?” Yoobin suggests. 

Gahyeon blinks slowly, mulling it over in her head. “No, my phone’s out of space,” she says. “I was going to ask Yoohyeon if she could sleep in my room, but I think she’s already asleep and I don’t want to wake her… Wait.” She yawns, squeaks like a kitten. “Would you mind just… sleeping on the floor, or something, just until I fall asleep? It’s just… too quiet without her.” She swallows. “Christ. I have a headache…” 

Yoobin nods, puts her hand on Gahyeon’s. “Of course not. But, let me get into actual pyjamas first.” 

The younger girl _giggles_ , and it’s almost a relief. “Oh, god, sorry, I hadn’t even noticed-”

“It’s fine, really.” Yoobin steps back and around Gahyeon. “You’ve had a rough night.”

“We’ve _all_ had a rough night.” 

“We all didn’t see the body.” She grabs the door handle and pulls it open. “You’re fine.”

Gahyeon sniffs again, and Yoobin exits to grab proper sleep attire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said this was inspired by piri


	9. outliars and hyppocrates: a fun fact about apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI IM NOT DEAD i just have mentaw iwwness and yeah
> 
> it kept me from writing for a while  
> so  
> here's this fuckin bridge chapter
> 
> but! i am writing more :) i have an outline for this  
> and also i have another fic in the works >:) (remember that jojo comment i made a couple chapters ago)
> 
> (yeah)

“Minji,” her father is saying two days later. He’s got that edge to his voice that he only gets when she’s being  _ disobedient _ , when she’s done something wrong - at least, it sounds that way over the phone. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea-”

“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” She presses her phone so far against her ear it pinches, squeezes so tight she fears she’ll break it. “Dad, this is her  _ funeral _ we’re talking about.”

“I-I know.” He sounds flustered. “If there were any other circumstances, I would be paying for  _ all _ of your plane tickets myself, but…” 

Minji sighs. “You  _ know _ we’ll wear our masks.” 

“I’m not worried about the virus.” 

Suddenly, he sounds  _ serious _ . The shift startles her. She jumps. “Then- What’s the problem?” she asks. 

“Where are you? And your friends?”

“Um…” She puts her thumbnail in her mouth. “I’m at the dorm. I think Yoobin and Gahyeon are here too, but I haven’t seen them. Siyeon’s at work, Yoohyeon’s in class... Bora was gone when I woke up this morning, but I dunno where she went…” Cautiously, she crosses her room and sits on her bed. “Is something wrong?” 

Her father pauses for a long, long, long time. “For your sake - and the other girls in the dorm, just in case - I have instructed a few of the officers to check up on you. Consider yourselves under an almost lockdown of sorts.”

This time, Minji  _ actually _ drops her phone. “Shit!” she sputters, and she drops off the bed to pick it up. “What do you mean, Dad?” She laughs reflexively. “Lockdown?”

“Given that this is an active investigation, I can’t say a lot, but I will say that what we have uncovered thus far has suggested a couple of things that- or rather, it’s- I can’t tell you why. It’s for your own good.” He sighs. 

“Serial killer?” Minji says. She’s been watching too many crime shows. “Or like a rapist or-”

“I can’t tell you that.” 

“Were you ever going to tell us this in person, or did you just expect us to figure it out on our own?” There’s two very conflicting emotions circling through her head right now. The first is anger, anger that her father’s just springing this on her now, anger that she doesn’t know what’s going on, anger that Handong’s dead. The second is fear, the kind that tells her to wrap herself in her blanket and not move ever again. Her hands are shaking. 

“Officer Shiang was going to come by tonight, yes. Try not to tell anyone before then, okay?” 

Minji shakes her head, despite him not being able to see her. “How is this gonna work? How long is this gonna take? What’s the deal?” 

“I have to get back to work. All of your questions will be answered tonight, I promise.” He coughs. “Hey. I love you, Minji. I just wanna keep you safe.” 

“Love you too, Dad,” she mumbles. “Talk to you soon.” 

He hangs up. She tosses her phone on her pillow and flops back on her bed. 

Lockdown. Again. It hasn’t even been six months since the last one ended. 

She sits there for god knows how long, at some point picking up and hugging a pillow to her chest, until she hears the door to the dorm open. “Y’all?” calls Yoohyeon. “Anyone home?” 

Minji scrambles to her feet, practically chucking the pillow across the room, and runs outside. “Oh, hey,” Yoohyeon says as she drops her bag. “Is something-” 

“Hug,  _ now _ ,” Minji says. She doesn’t even give her friend a chance to respond. She nearly knocks the taller girl over. 

“-wrong?” Yoohyeon finishes. She coughs. “Jeez, ow. What happened?” 

Minji rests her chin on Yoohyeon’s shoulder and sighs. “Dad’s not letting any of us go to the funeral, or even, like, leave the apartment, and he wouldn’t tell me why but I think there’s a serial killer on the loose and  _ that’s _ who got Handongie and I wasn’t supposed to tell you any of that.” She closes her eyes. “Officer Shiang’s coming by tonight to officially tell us. It affects everyone in the building, though, so… I guess? That’s a good thing.”

“Oh, shit,” Yoohyeon says. “Oh,  _ shit _ .” She wiggles away and puts her hand on Minji’s upper arm. Her eyes are wide as dinner plates. “That’s  _ so _ not a good thing.”

Minji shrugs. “God, the last thing I  _ want _ is to be stuck here. Everyone’s so tense, I don’t like it…” She steps back. “Let’s… Just go sit on the couch. You look tired.”

“Yoobin’s not gonna like this.”

“Bora’s not gonna like this, either.” They walk back to the couch, and Minji sits down and rubs her face. “If he wants to prevent a murder, he should let us go to the funeral. They’re gonna kill each other.” 

Yoohyeon sits next to her and crosses her legs. “I’m… kinda worried about Bora, to be honest. She’s been the most removed of all of us, which is so… unlike her, y’know? I woulda thought that Yoobin or Siyeon would’ve pulled away, but I guess not.” She leans on her hand. “This is just… So…  _ Wrong _ .” 

Minji sinks into the couch. “You can say that again,” she says. She tries to reach for the TV remote, but her arms don’t stretch far enough. 

“So, we’re not allowed to go to the funeral?” Yoohyeon asks, grabbing it for her. 

Minji shakes her head. “Dad’s worried.” 

The younger girl pushes a button and flips through the channels. She eventually stops on a movie that they’ve seen a million times and sets the phone down. “About us getting killed? Or the virus?” 

“Us getting got.” Minji sighs. “We’ll learn more tonight.”

“About what?” Gahyeon asks from the hallway. They look over to the youngest girl, who’s wrapped in a blanket. She looks  _ very _ small today. It’s the first time anyone but Yoobin’s seen her since Saturday night.

Minji looks at Yoohyeon, shrugs, and pushes herself upright. “Get over here,” she says. She wants to scream and wrap Gahyeon into a bear hug, but something holds her back. 

“Huh?” Gahyeon says, her face twisting. “Did I do something wrong?” 

"No, get over here,” Minji repeats. Gahyeon obeys and sort of waddles across the room towards the pair. She doesn’t make it to the couch before Minji grabs her around the waist and tugs her ober. She squeaks. 

“Wh- Minji, hey!” She wriggles away and rolls onto the floor. “Ow.” 

Yoohyeon starts giggling. “We- We were worried about you, Gahyeon,” Minji stammers, slipping off the couch to sit next to her. “You haven’t left your room.” She grins and nudges her. 

Gahyeon curls up and presses her back to the cushions. She elbows Minji off of her. “Yoobin was with me,” she mumbles. “I was fine.” 

Yoohyeon rubs Gahyeon’s hair. “We’re still allowed to worry,” she says. “We should be sticking together right now, anyway.” 

Gahyeon swats her away. “I guess,” she says, and she pulls the blanket up around her neck. “Do we have a date for the funeral? I just…”

Minji shakes her head. “About that,” she says. She pushes herself upright and brushes her hair out of her face. “That… Things are getting complicated.” She sighs. “We’re not even allowed to go to the funeral. Or leave the dorm.” 

Gahyeon’s eyes widen. “Are you  _ serious _ ?” she says. “Why not?” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Are we  _ suspects _ ? How are we suspects?”

“No-no-no-no!” Minji puts her hand on Gahyeon’s shoulders. “We’re not suspects. Dad just has.. other suspicions. Or… Okay, look, Officer Shiang’s coming by later to explain all of this situation.” 

The younger girl makes a face, her nose scrunching up. “Why him?” she says. “Has every other officer been fired or something? It’s like he’s just conveniently  _ everywhere _ … y’know, connected to… her.” She trails off and rests her chin on her knees. “And if crime shows teach you anything, it’s that anyone who like, puts their hands everywhere has something to do with this.” 

Minji laughs involuntarily. “I mean, I don’t think he  _ did _ it,” she says. “It’s weird, yeah.”

“Maybe you could ask for a different officer to swing by,” Yoohyeon offers. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“He could say no,” Minji says. “Yeah, I’ll call later. He sounded busy earlier.” She pushes herself back up on the couch. “I’m surprised he hasn’t made me come home, if he wants to keep an eye on me.” She pats the cushion next to her. “You know you can sit with us, right?”

Gahyeon mumbles something and hunkers deeper into her blanket. Yoohyeon shrugs. “I dunno, dude. None of this makes sense.” She pokes the older girl’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s a  _ de-mon,”  _ she teases. “That would explain like, everything, right?” 

“This isn’t something to joke about,” Gahyeon mutters. Yoohyeon taps her head.

“Would you rather I cried?” she says. It starts like a joke and trails off into a horrible, horrible silence. 

No one says anything. Minji reaches over the girl’s head and grabs the remote. “Wonder if there’s anything new on Netflix,” she says, more to herself than anyone else, just to fill the silence, just to lighten the mood. 

“That sounds good,” Yoohyeon says. 

Gahyeon says absolutely nothing at all. 

Bora comes home before Siyeon, surprisingly. She’s clutching a plastic bag like it’s holding her very life blood and barrels into the dorms like she’s on the run. Minji twists around to look at her. “Hey!” she chirps. “We’re watching, uh, Kingdom, again.”

“Hi,” Bora says, her voice flat and emotionless. “Sorry. I was looking for something…” She shuffles into the dorm proper. “Just a snack, it’s nothing bad.”

“Wanna join us?” Minji asks. She slides around to make a space for her. “It’d be better than hiding…” She coughs and turns away. 

Bora shakes her head. “I’m okay,” she says. “Where’s Yoobin?” 

“She should still be in her room,” Gahyeon calls, flinching away from the screen. “Or, my room. She  _ was _ in my room.” She shrugs. “I dunno.”

Bora nods and darts off down the hallway before she can say a word. Minji blinks after her. “That was weird,” she says, after a decently long pause. 

“They’re getting along again!” Yoohyeon says with a little cheer. “That’s good.”

“Maybe,” Gahyeon says. She leans back and looks up at her. “At least they’re  _ talking _ .”

Minji wants to say something, but then her phone rings, and she is cut off. “Oops,” she says, scrambling to pull her phone from her pocket. It’s Siyeon. She pops off the couch and presses it to her ear. “Hey! What’s up?” 

“Dude,” Siyeon says, and Minji can tell right away that  _ something _ is wrong. “There’s a police car tracking me.” 

“Huh?” Minji says. Her phone nearly slips from her hands. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, there’s a police car behind me and it’s been following me since I turned out of work.” Siyeon curses under her breath. “I dunno who it is, it’s just weird.”

Minji sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Okay, that’s… Well, okay, there’s supposed to be an officer swinging by soon, ish, maybe that’s just who it is? Can you see who it is?” 

There’s a pause, during which Siyeon does something that makes a loud rustling noise. “Um. No. It’s just a police car. Why…?” 

“We’re being put under lockdown for our protection,” Minji says, all in one breath. “Or something like that. That’s all Dad told me and dammit, I really shouldn’t have told you, either-”

“You’re kidding.”

“I really, really wish I was.”

“ _ Fuck _ .” Something in the car click-click-clicks. “That’s just great. Why?” 

Minji combs her fingers through her hair. “I mean, I don’t know, either. But we  _ aren’t _ suspects.”

“I’ll be home in three minutes,” Siyeon says. “Then you can tell me.”

“Well, don’t  _ speed _ -”

“Don’t test me, Minji. You know I won’t get caught.” Then, she hangs up. 

The other girls are staring at her when she turns back around. “What?” Minji asks, slipping her phone in her pocket. 

“Is everything okay?” Yoohyeon asks. “Or, uh, will everything be okay?” 

Minji shrugs pathetically. “I have no idea,” she says. She shuffles back around the coffee table and drops back onto the couch, folding over onto Yoohyeon. Gahyeon grabs the remote off the table and pauses the show. 

“Let’s watch the Animal Channel,” she suggests. “Maybe kittens will help.” 

Yoohyeon laughs. One of her arms is looped around Minji’s shoulders in a way that must be awkward, but she’s not complaining, so Minji doesn’t move. “I wanna see Cherry,” she says. It’s a little childish. She leans her head on Yoohyeon’s shoulder. “Maybe Dad’s gonna swing by with her.”

“The dorm doesn’t allow  _ pets _ ,” Gahyeon says, flipping through the directory until she finds the animal channel. It switches onto a documentary about pandas. 

“Maybe they’ll make an exception for an emotional support animal.”

“If you can convince them that Cherry’s an ESA, can you try for Pie, too?” Yoohyeon asks. Minji nods. 

Gahyeon shakes her head. 

The door opens with a little too much force. Minji doesn’t need to look up to know it’s Siyeon. She lifts one of her hands. “You good?” Yoohyeon asks. 

“Guess who’s here,” Siyeon says, her voice dropping into a whisper. 

Minji sits up fast enough that she clocks her head into Yoohyeon’s chin. She winces and rubs the spot. “The officer?” Gahyeon says. She mutes the TV and starts to push herself onto the couch. “Already?” 

Siyeon nods. She combs her hair out and starts to retie it in a low ponytail. “He was following me, so it’s not surprising…” The hair tie snaps. “Dammit!” 

“You good?” Yoohyeon repeats. 

“I was followed by the police,” Siyeon says. She shakes her head, smooths her hair. “Where’re the others?” 

“Right here!” says Bora, who is hurrying down the hall; Yoobin follows her, much more slowly. She hovers at the doorway, swaying back and forth on her heels. 

_ Everyone _ is on edge. Minji clears her throat. “Maybe we should sit down,” she says. “Look, like, put to-” 

She gets cut off by a knock at the door. “There goes that plan,” Yoobin says. She sidesteps Bora and takes a sideways seat in one of the chairs. In the light, she looks tired - no, she looks  _ exhausted _ . Minji makes a note to ask her later, even though she has a good guess. 

“Come in!” Siyeon calls, hurrying away towards the coffee table. Bora moves to join her. 

Minji holds her breath. Part of her wants it to be someone else - maybe her father was  _ wrong _ , maybe it’s someone  _ else _ \- but she’s not sure why, and it doesn’t really matter  _ who _ comes. That doesn’t stop something inside her from shriveling and dying when Officer Shiang comes through. 

“Good evening, ladies,” he says, pushing his hat upright. “It was nice to have a day without rain, no?” 

“Sure was,” Siyeon says. She moves around the coffee table to take a seat on the already crowded couch. 

Bora is at her side, unsurprisingly. “Why is he here?” she hisses. Siyeon shrugs.

The officer shuts the door and steps into the room. He leans against the little shelf. “I get it too,” he says. “It’s never easy when someone close to you dies, especially… in such a way.” Flexes his hand, sighs. “Rest assured, we’re doing everything in our power to find who did this and serve them the justice they deserve. It won’t bring her back, but it might ease something.” 

Gahyeon takes a deep, shaky breath beside Minji. “It’s okay,” Yoohyeon says. “It’s okay.” She doesn’t sound very put together, either. 

He pauses to let her finish, then takes another step into the apartment. “I know you have a lot of questions, which is why I’m here - to answer them. We… Do have some unfortunate news.” He presses his hands together. “From our investigation thus far, we have determined that there is a significant risk for another of you to be, well, targeted.” Takes another step forward. “Therefore, we’ve determined that the best course of action is to put you under witness protection, just in case.” 

“Witness protection,” Yoobin echoes. 

Officer Shiang nods. “We’re also suggesting, though it’s not mandatory, of course, that you don’t really… leave. It’s easier to keep an eye on you if you’re in here, after all. And besides-” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck- “I’m the only one here, I’m like, the new guy. Take it easy on me.” He laughs again. It grates on Minji’s ears. “We can get you the groceries, we can get you what you need. Besides, this will be temporary. A week, maybe two at the most.”

“A  _ week _ ?” Yoohyeon squeaks. “And we can’t leave the dorms?” 

He tilts his head. “Is that a problem, Miss… Ah…” He lifts his hands, snaps his fingers. “Forgive me, I can’t seem to remember your name.”

Minji glances at Yoohyeon, who suddenly seems very, very uncomfortable. "Miss Kim," she says, poking her finger into her chest. "And, I mean, yeah, sort of…” She trails off. 

“What seems to be the issue? Surely we can work something out.” 

Minji gets a weird feeling in the bottom of her stomach, far too empty and far too full at the same time. Yoohyeon clears her throat. “My photography class, we have a mandatory assignment,” she says. “Have to go out to the art museum. It’s part of the exam.” 

The officer nods. “We can send someone to escort you, perhaps? Just for safety purposes.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and taps something on it. “Do you know what day you need to go?” 

“Wednesday’s fine?” 

He makes a note of that. “Wednesday. We’ll figure it out, not to worry, Miss Kim.” He hesitates for a moment on her name. “Well, then. There’ll be someone who comes by twice a day, though they might not always go in, just to make sure everything’s alright. The other people in this dorm will be under similar restrictions.” He slips his phone back in his pocket. “After all, the killer could be among those in the building. Not to, well, scare you, but until we get further along, we can’t be sure.” 

“Is there anyone you’ve been able to rule out?” Yoobin asks. She’s crossed her arms, crossed her legs. 

“I can’t tell you that much.” He shakes his head, adjusting his hat. “Ongoing investigation and all. Someone higher up than me will probably be contacting you, when we have any questions. I can’t say more than that.” His eyes are hidden now.

Yoobin nods. Her face is unreadable. 

Minji pats Gahyeon’s back again, more for her sake than the younger girl’s. “Is there anything that you can do for us right now?” she asks. “Even, like, a list of resources or something?”

Officer Shiang shakes his head. “I don’t have anything right now. I can find some for you.” He makes a move to take his phone back out. 

She looks over at Bora, who’s shaking like a leaf, then to Gahyeon, who’s staring at the floor with glassy eyes, then at Yoobin, who’s shut her eyes completely. “I think that’d be a good idea,” she says. “No harm in therapy.”

“You’re completely right.” He laughs, like she’s made a joke. She hasn’t, not really. “We’ll pull something together for you. Does anyone else have any questions?” 

The room has gone quiet, save for the sound of breathing. Part of her wants to speak to break the unbearable silence, but she can’t think of anything to say. So she ducks her head instead. 

Officer Shiang rustles something and takes a step back. “Well, if that’s the case, then I think I should go.” He sighs. “I know this is hard, but I’m going to thank you for doing your part to make this investigation easier. Believe me, I miss her too. It’s a shame that we couldn’t really catch up, but-” something changes in his demeanor, but Minji can’t tell why- “ah, enough about me. Here, wait. If any of you need something, feel free to give me a call.” He pulls something out of his pocket - a small box of business cards - and hands it off to Yoobin, who taps one out of the box and passes it to Minji. “Any leads, any suspicions, or whatever, like, vents you need. I’m here for you guys.” Minji hands the box to Gahyeon, who doesn’t respond for a good few seconds. 

“Thank you,” Siyeon says. 

“Of course. It’s my duty, as a police officer and as her friend.” He comes around to Bora, the last person to receive a card, and takes the box from her. “Don’t hesitate to reach out.” He offers to shake her hand, but Bora just stares at him. He flinches away. “Alrighty then. Well, have a good night, ladies.” 

With that, he crosses out of the apartment. 

The door’s barely even shut before Yoobin pushes herself out of the chair, crushing the card she’s gotten in her hand and dumping it in the trash. “That was weird,” she says, flatly. 

“It feels like he’s lying,” Siyeon says. She turns her card over in her hand. “Or at least, there’s something he’s not telling us.”

Yoohyeon squirms on the other end of the couch. “Why  _ him _ ? I don’t think he even existed a month ago.” 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Yoobin says. She folds her arms again. “Why’s he getting so involved? From the way she spoke about him, they didn’t really end on good terms. So he’s either delusional, in love, or the-”

“Don’t,” Bora says. She shakes her head. “Let’s change the subject.”

Yoobin sets her jaw, but she doesn’t respond. Minji feels a little bit of tension release. At least they won’t kill each other. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Gahyeon says, easing herself off of the couch. 

“Maybe we should order dinner,” Minji comments, when she’s gone. Bora nods. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song in the chapter name is by an american singer named will wood and hes pretty cool and im not entirely sure why but like 
> 
> who'd wanna be human anyway
> 
> i do care about this tory i just dont normally name my chapters and i panicked


	10. flight, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for car crash/injuries being described
> 
> im. at my peak writing angst.

Wednesday comes way too fast for Yoohyeon's liking. 

The day of the museum trip dawns gray, much like most of the wintry days they've been having, and something about it rubs her the wrong way. She tugs her brown cardigan around her, checks her bag again, sighs. She's probably just overthinking. 

Still, the concept of taking a police car to the museum in the middle of an active murder investigation is enough to make anyone's head spin. She gets a pass for this one. 

Camera, extra film, notepad, cell phone charger, granola bar, water bottle. She has everything she's gonna need. She can relax. 

Except she can't.

She sits on the couch, her hands running over and over her bag, and sighs. The floor is eerily quiet, despite everyone being home. She guesses it's stress, but still, it bothers her. They should be sitting together, or something. But they're not. And Yoohyeon sits in the living room alone. 

She leans back on the couch, so that she's looking at the ceiling. 

"You good?" Minji asks, and she's standing in the hallway.

"Maybe?" Yoohyeon replies. She's never been so thankful for a question in her life.

She sits up, and Minji crosses towards her. She sort of hops over the coffee table to sit next to her, narrowly avoiding a small pile of trash that’s accumulated over the past few days. “Whoa. Someone should clean that up,” she says as she drops onto the couch. 

“Like you?” Yoohyeon offers. She smiles a bit. 

Minji waves her hand. “Later. I’ll do it for real.” She leans on Yoohyeon’s shoulder and sighs. “Maybe. Depends on if I’m up to it.”

Yoohyeon shakes her head. “You gotta get to it eventually,” she says.

“Eventually. Not now.” She pats Yoohyeon’s shoulder. “Once you’ve gone. Then.”

Yoohyeon tilts her head over and stares at the older girl. “Are  _ you _ good?” she asks, cocking her eyebrow. 

Minji shrugs. “That’s a tough one,” she says. “I mean, my stomach kinda hurts. And I might be a little anxious.” She sits up; Yoohyeon follows suit. “Or a lot anxious. Can you promise me something?”

“Yeah, of course, Minji,” Yoohyeon says. She furrows her brow, a little unnerved by the sudden weight in the elder girl’s voice. “What’s up?”

“Don’t die.” She squeezes Yoohyeon’s hands. She sounds completely serious. 

Yoohyeon laughs awkwardly. “Wh- What are you talking about, Minji?” she says. “I’m not gonna die, I’m just going to the museum.”

“I mean, this whole thing is leaving a bad taste in my mouth.” Minji sighs and falls backwards, letting go of Yoohyeon’s hands. “Like, there has to be something up here, or else I’m just overthinking.”

Yoohyeon’s phone buzzes in her bag, and she jumps. “You probably are,” she says. She unlocks it and scans the message. 

[ I’m here, waiting outside. :) ] It’s from an unknown number. It must be one of the officers.

She puts her phone back in her bag. 

“I’ll do my best, okay?” she says, and she smiles at Minji. Minji flashes her a thumbs up. They stand up nearly in unison. 

Minji snaps her fingers. “Wait. Before you go,” she says, putting her hand on Yoohyeon’s wrist. “Can I give you something. Y’know, just in case?” 

Yoohyeon tilts her head. “What is it?” she asks. 

“Wait here, let me get it.” Minji pulls away and practically bolts back around the coffee table and down the hallway, towards her and Siyeon and Yoobin’s room. She squeaks an apology to someone on the way down, slams the door. Yoohyeon stares for a moment and watches a very startled looking Siyeon walk with a little more trepidation the rest of the way down the hallway. She waves. 

“Is she okay?” Siyeon asks, pausing at the doorway and looking back over her shoulder. 

Yoohyeon shrugs. “Man, I dunno. She might need to eat something.”

Siyeon grins. “We have that in common,” she says. “Are you heading out?” 

“Mhm.” Yoohyeon checks her phone again. 

[ Where are you? Is everything alright? :(? ]

She sends back a quick [ one moment please ] and tightens the strap of her bag. “It should only be an hour or so,” she says. “Because of the virus crap the course is lighter, y’know?”

Siyeon crosses the sitting room and approaches the kitchen. “Stay safe,” she says before vanishing behind the fridge. “Okay?”

“Jeez, you’re both so worried.” Yoohyeon scratches her arm. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Minji comes back down the hallway, holding a small can of something in one hand. “Here,” she says. She’s a little out of breath from running. “Take it.” She thrusts it at Yoohyeon. “Just- Just in case.”

Yoohyeon takes the can and turns it over in her hand. The label reads  _ Pepper Spray - Extra Strength _ . “Oh,” she says, unable to keep the shock from her voice. “This is definitely illegal.”

“Dad gave it to me a while ago, when I first moved out,” Minji says. “Y’know. For self defense. As long as you don’t have to use it, you’re fine.” She pushes it at Yoohyeon. “Please. Just for peace of mind.”

“Would you do this if Handong were alive?” Yoohyeon asks. 

“Just take it.”

“Minji-”

“Seriously.” 

Yoohyeon’s phone buzzes again. “Fine,” she says, and she puts it in her bag. “I’ll give it back when I get back.”

“You better, or else you could get in  _ serious _ trouble.” Minji smiles. “See ya later.”

Yoohyeon nods, then turns and hurries towards the door. ‘I’ll take good photos for y’all!” she chirps, before slamming the door and jogging down the steps. Idling in front of her is a single black car. If it weren’t for the person sitting within’s unfortunate familiarity, she’d barely know it was supposed to be the cop car. 

Of course it’s Officer Shiang. Because why wouldn’t it be?

She slides into the passenger seat with more disappointment than she should rationally be feeling. The officer dips his head at her. “Evening, Miss Kim,” he says, with a smile in his voice. “You got everything you need, right?”

She nods, her throat suddenly dry. “Sorry it took so long,” she says. She clicks her seatbelt on. “I was… Missing something.” Her bag is at her feet.

“Hey, if this is for a grade, I get it.” Shiang switches the car into reverse and starts to back out of the parking space. “You gotta pass your classes.”

A memory worms its way into Yoohyeon’s brain, of the intervention they’d held at the end of last semester and the party they’d thrown when she’d passed all her exams. It makes her a smile. “Yeah, I do,” she says, leaning her arm on the door. 

“What are you majoring in, if I may ask?” he asks. He spins the wheel. He seems entirely focused on the road. 

“English,” Yoohyeon replies. “Why?” 

He shrugs. “Just making conversation is all. Don’t need this to be any more awkward than it needs to be.” He laughs, as if he made a joke. “English, hm? You wanna be a teacher or something?”

“I dunno, actually,” she says, fixing her gaze out the window. “I could do a bunch of things. Language is just fascinating to me, y’know? I have a whole list that I wanna learn.” She sighs. “Handongie was gonna help me learn Mandarin, actually…”

He hums. “That’s very cool. I wish I could do that. It took so long for me to learn Korean.” He twists the wheel, flips the turn signal, and turns into the main road. “If you’re still interested in learning, I might be able to help. Or at least, point you in the right direction.”

Yoohyeon blinks in surprise. “That’s really nice, sir,” she says. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Of course, Miss Kim.” He flashes a look at her, the kind that suggests a smile under his mask. “I don’t mind at all.”

They continue to drive, making small talk, for quite a while. Officer Shiang loosens up very quickly, Yoohyeon notices, and he seems excited to talk outside of the professional setting of  _ delivering bad news _ or whatever. She almost forgets that he’s an officer. 

Almost. 

“You and Handong were pretty close, hm?” Yoohyeon comments while they sit in front of a red light. 

Shiang nods. “All of our childhood, at least. It was very exciting to see her again. I just wish it could have lasted longer.”

The light turns green, and they drive on. 

“It could have, I mean,” he says, suddenly. “But that part was her fault.”

He turns on the highway at the next light, without even waiting for it to change. 

“Wait,” Yoohyeon says. She sits upright and clutches the door handle a little tighter. "What are you doing? The museum-"

“We can go faster this way.” He glances over at her. "We just have to make a small pit stop first. Something wrong?"

Yoohyeon watches the world fly by. "Lots of things," she says. "Where are you taking me?"

He shakes his head. "I can't lose you, too, Miss Kim. You seem like a nice girl. A smart girl. You can succeed, where Handong failed. Right?"

He pulls into the next lane without signaling. Yoohyeon feels her heart sinking. She looks out the window, counting the cars and the trees and the signs. They're going too fast for her to jump. She would die. 

"What do you mean, where Handong failed?" she asks, her voice a little higher than she intends.

"I mean, she refused to listen," he says, his voice strangely level. "She lied and tried to save me, but it was she who needed saving. And when that failed-" he swerves past a minivan in front of them- "and I realized the unfortunate truth, I had to do what God willed." He sighs. "God wanted her one way or another. Just like God wants you."

One by one, the puzzle pieces click-click-click into place, and Yoohyeon can see the horrifying picture all in one place. "You- You-" she stammers, her heart dropping into her stomach. "You fucking _ killed _ her?"

"It wasn't my choice," he says. 

Yoohyeon swallows. "What do you  _ mean _ ?" she asks. "Then- if you didn't-" 

"I told you. God wants what God wants. Are you so proud as to argue with a deity, Yoohyeon?"

_ How does he know my name? _

Yoohyeon gets a horrible feeling that starts at her stomach and claws its way into her throat.. She is going to die in this car if she doesn't do something. But what? She can't call the police - she's with a police officer. She can't jump - she'll get hit by a car. She can't hit him - she's not strong enough. She toes her bag at her feet.

_ Clink _ .

Suddenly, she has an idea. 

"Call someone and I'll kill you right here," he says. "I can make it look like an accident. I  _ will _ make it look like an accident. You're the chosen one right now. You can't escape your fate." He sounds like a video game character. It’s uncanny, unhuman. It feels unrealistic. “God wants what God wants.”

It’s difficult to open a bag with her feet. Yoohyeon thanks her past self for being stupid enough to forget to snap it shut. She stares at Shiang and prays that he doesn’t notice. “What God are you talking about?” she says. As long as he talks, she’s fine. If only he were saying more palatable things.

“The only God,” he says. Yoohyeon gets the feeling that they mean two different deities when they say that phrase. “He came to me in my dreams. He tells me what I must do for him. I am his servant.” He laughs. “I was hoping she’d be the same, that she’d join me, and we’d both be rewarded come his return, but no… She’d other plans.” He’s talking in circles. It makes her head spin. 

“And what kind of rewards are there?” she asks, just as the flap flips off of her bag. Excellent. She slides down so that she can better navigate. The car rolls over a pothole and knocks her off balance. Her camera bounces off her foot. It’s heavy. It hurts. 

But death will  _ probably _ hurt worse. She swallows and starts trying to ease the pepper spray free. 

“The chance to be gods in our own right.” He’s staring at her. Yoohyeon grimaces. “The chance to rule the world and be given the respect we deserve. Power beyond any imagination. What does that sound like to  _ you _ , Yoohyeon?” 

Being honest would get her killed. Her throat closes up when she tries to lie. “Sounds-” she says. The can is out of the bag. She tries to catch it with her foot. It rolls out of her reach. “Um- It sounds- You- God, huh?” She doesn’t have any coherent thoughts rattling around in her head beyond  _ pepper spray, pepper spray, pepper spray _ . “You wanna be God?”

“I  _ will _ be God,” he says. There’s a firmness in his voice that scares her. “This is your last chance. Would you like to join me?” He turns back to the road, and she uses this as her moment. She ducks, searching for the pepper spray, picks it up. “What the  _ fuck _ are you doing?”

“Let! Me! Go!” Yoohyeon shouts, and she bursts up with speed she wasn’t aware she possessed. Her finger presses the button on top of the can so hard that it digs into her skin. “Now!” 

He recognizes what she’s doing a moment too late, and then he’s howling, screaming, and it fills the car and rings in her ears and her head and it’s enough to make her let go for just a moment. He whips his head back, his eyes red and streaming, and presses one hand to his face. “ _ Fuck _ !” he spits. 

The car’s swerving. Back and forth, back and forth. Yoohyeon clings to her seatbelt for dear life, or else she’s going to fly through the window. Her hands are shaking. The can falls from her grip. 

“P-Pull over!” she shouts, though her voice is whiny and strained. “Let me go!” It’s weak to her ears. She goes to unlock the door.

“You  _ bitch _ ,” he says. “I’m going to  _ savor _ killing-” 

He doesn’t finish the sentence, because the weaving car slams into the safety rail and suddenly, they are upside down. Suddenly, they are flying. And then, much too quickly, they aren’t, and all Yoohyeon can hear is the crunching of metal and glass as they roll and slide their way down into a ditch. Her camera becomes a projectile, smacks her in the head. Glass bites into her face and arms. She covers her head but not fast enough. Her vision goes red. There’s pain, but the adrenaline muffles it. 

The car comes to a stop and crumples against a tree. For a brief moment, it hovers on one wheel, and then falls back to the ground and rattles the bones that are still intact in Yoohyeon’s body. Her ears ring and ring and ring. Her breathing is coming in shallower and shallower gasps. Her hands, her face, her neck feel wet and hot and sticky. The world spins. 

She expects the black at the edge of her vision to take over. 

It doesn’t. 

Her breathing echoes in the silence of the car. 

Tentatively, she leans forward, and the world  _ lurches _ . She covers her mouth with a bloody hand to try and keep the nausea back. Fuck. Her head pounds, her shoulders ache, her legs feel glued to the leather, and yet somehow, she is alive. She is  _ alive _ . 

She lifts her head to try and look around, but it’s impossible to see through the red film and the blur. Is this a concussion? It feels like a concussion. She’ll find out. As long as she gets out of the car. 

There’s no other sounds in the car. 

“ _ F-F-F-Fuck _ ,” she stammers, more to prove to herself that she can than for any other reason. “H-H-He’s dead.” 

She tilts her head to the left, where she remembers Shiang being. There’s a silhouette slumped to the side. It might be moving. She genuinely has no idea. She swallows - it hurts - she ignores it - it still hurts. _Where is your god now?_ she thinks, and she smiles, and then she realizes that she is quite possibly completely alone. No one will find her down here. She'll die.  


“Get- Out- Of car,” she tells herself, slowly twisting to the right. The door is leaning farther in than it was before the crash. She lifts her hand and swipes for the door handle. She misses. This is how she learns the window is completely gone save for the bits of glass now digging into her palm. The new pain blurs into the rest of it. 

She slides her hand down the door until she finds the handle. It takes effort to close her fingers around it. 

Somehow, she manages to do it. 

Her other hand traces the seatbelt, until she can click it free. 

“One.” She slips herself forward. “Two.” Tries to put more weight on her legs. “Three.” Pushes the car door open. 

She falls with it, right into a bush. 

The feeling of dirt beneath her feet and hands and elbows nearly makes her cry.

She is out of the car. 

She lets herself lie for a moment, just sitting there, in the bush, with dirt and gravel biting into her still stinging wounds, collecting her thoughts, steadying her breathing as much as she can. She was facing this way when the car crashed. If she turns around, she can return to the highway. She can get help. 

She starts, very slowly, to twist around, but any movement makes her head  _ pound _ , and she has to stop several times or risk passing out. She can’t. She can’t let herself lose. Not when she’s already gotten so close. 

Her vision is slowly starting to clear, though everything’s blurry and tinted with red. Blinking hurts. That is a problem for later. 

“Can we stand?” she asks herself. 

She tries to push herself to her feet. Her legs don’t last the length of a breath. 

Fine, then. She’ll crawl. 

Her arms are the only thing supporting her weight. She lurches forward, pauses, breathes, repeats it. Every scrape of her skin sends pain that starts as a sting and only gets louder and louder and  _ louder _ shooting up her forearms. It  _ burns _ . She can no longer ignore it. 

She slumps forward and sobs. 

The tears hurt as they come down.

Keep climbing. Keep climbing. Get away from  _ that _ . Come on. 

“I’m- I’m not gonna die to-to-today,” she croaks. “N-Not today.”

Her arms feel like lead weights, and yet she keeps trying to climb. 

The sun has begun to set by the time she hears the very first car from the highway. They must be worried sick about her. She was definitely supposed to be home by now. She whimpers. No one can hear her. It’s pointless. She’s crying again. Maybe she never stopped. 

Her mind is filled with images now - her friends, smiling and laughing. The last movie night they had, when Bora screamed so loud and threw the popcorn at the screen. Her and Gahyeon sitting in the living room struggling over calculus homework. That time she and Siyeon got drunk and watched reality TV until dawn. Minji sneaking Pie into the dorms with her. Minji and her trying to bake a cake. Minji’s head on her shoulder-

And then she touches concrete, and she makes a strangled noise halfway between a sob and a laugh, and she throws herself the rest of the way under the safety rail, and she stretches out on the highway. 

It’s getting darker, and her normally white shirt has been darkened by mud and blood, and she knows that lying here is a bad idea, but she can’t bring herself to move. Whatever was propelling her forward has vanished into thin air. Maybe it was never there to begin with. She feels no motivation. She feels only  _ pain _ . There is not a inch of her body that is not damaged. Her knee - maybe both of them - is throbbing and stiff. Her ribs feel like they’re squeezing the air out of her lungs. Her hands, her hands, her  _ hands _ .

There’s a rumbling. There is a vehicle coming. It sounds big.

Get up, she tells herself. Get up and live. Get up for your friends. Get up for Minji. 

She is awash in the golden glow of a headlight. A truck’s horn cuts the air. 

“No,” she tells herself. “It’ll stop. It’ll stop. Stop…”

It doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i owe y'all an apology after this


	11. safe and sound

Yoobin’s phone rings, and it’s a number she doesn’t recognize. 

She looks at it for a moment, studying it, wondering if the hope that flares in her chest is ever worth it, then presses it to her ear. “Hello?” she says. 

“Congratulations!” says something that is clearly a bot. “Your car has been chosen as the Lucky Light Post Winner for today-” 

She hangs up and drops her phone on her bed. It’s not going to be him. It’s never going to be him. 

What even is a Lucky Light Post Winner, anyway?

She picks up her hoodie off of her bed post, slides down the ladder, and makes her way out of her room. She should really talk to someone, before her anxiety gets the better of her and she never leaves her room again. She has to stay at least somewhat put together. 

She pulls her hoodie on and zips it up as she walks down the hallway. The only person in the sitting room is Minji, though it sounds like there’s at least one person in the kitchen. Minji is sitting on the couch, half asleep from the looks of it, with a blanket wrapped around her entire body and only her head sticking out. There’s still trash littering the coffee table. She doesn’t move when Yoobin starts collecting it. 

“You alright?” Yoobin asks, dropping some balled up napkins into an empty cardboard box. 

Minji doesn’t move. “Sort of,” she mumbles, though it’s difficult to make out her words through the blanket. 

“Worried about Yoohyeon?” Yoobin says. She dumps what she’s gathered into the trash can and moves to take a seat next to the older girl.

“She hasn’t texted me anything, and she hasn’t read any of my messages, and it’s been over an hour.” Minji buries her head in her knees. “I know it’s stupid, but I just can’t… What if she doesn’t come back? We can’t lose her, too.” She shrinks further into herself. “Not now. Not ever.”

Yoobin offers her a hug, but Minji doesn’t seem to notice. “I miss Handong,” she says without even acknowledging Yoobin. “I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t come back. How are you  _ okay _ ?” With that, she turns to look at her, and Yoobin winces to see the pain etched in her friend’s expression. 

“You think I’m okay?” Yoobin says, and she sort of smiles, sort of doesn’t. 

Minji shrugs. “You seem okay. You’re not a crying mess. And you’re not… Whatever Bora’s doing.” She shakes her head, tugs the blanket tighter around her. “You seem just the same as always.”

Yoobin reaches her hand around and pats Minji’s shoulders. “I’m really not,” she says. “God, I’m really not.” She tries her best to smile, but it’s falling from her face like  _ that _ . “It’s just… in here, I guess.” She touches her chest. “Which probably isn’t good for me, but, well, one of us needs to function.” She laughs, like she made a joke. Minji laughs a bit too.

“It’s not fair,” she says, with her eyes cast downward. “It’s not fucking fair.” She swallows. “I hope whoever killed her burns in hell.”

“You and me both,” Yoobin mumbles. “You and me both.”

They don’t speak for a while, during which whoever’s in the kitchen continues to make a lot of noise. Eventually, Yoobin’s curiosity gets the best of her, and she slips off the couch and pokes her head in to see what’s happening. She finds Siyeon standing at the counter, a cutting board with fresh vegetables resting in front of her. “What’re you making?” she asks. 

Siyeon jumps. “Oh, shit, Yoobin,” she says, and she puts the knife in her hand on the board. “You scared me.” She looks down at her handiwork, shrugs, and reaches up above to the cabinet. “Just… Something, I guess. We haven’t cooked in a while. Figured I’d make something for all of us.” She pulls a large skillet down and rests it on the stove. “You wanna help?” 

“Sure,” Yoobin says. “Might as well. Takes my mind off of…” She trails off, then steps into the kitchen proper, rolls her sleeves up, fidgets. “What do you want me to do?”

Siyeon smiles softly. “Yeah, I know.” She taps the fridge handle and steps to the side. “There should be some beef in there, I think in like, strips? Maybe you can start browning it.” 

Yoobin opens the door; sure enough, there’s a package of pre-cut beef that looks relatively old. It’s a good idea to use it tonight, that’s for sure. She takes it, peels the package off, and dumps it into the skillet. “Is this just a whatever meal?” she asks, reaching over Siyeon’s cutting board to pick up a wooden spatula. 

“I’m thinking rice?” Siyeon says. She tilts her head. “And maybe some of the sesame seeds, and some of the leftover sauce from last night.” She picks up the knife and starts to cut up an onion. “What do you think?”

Yoobin shrugs. “Sounds good to me.” She pushes the beef around in the pan some. “You’re the leader here.”

“Salt,” Siyeon says. “Don’t forget the salt this time.” She steps back so Yoobin can reach better. The knife slips from her hand. “Shit!” 

Yoobin drops the salt just as she picks it up. “You okay?” she says. She picks up the knife and steps it away. 

Siyeon shakes her head and sticks her finger in her mouth. “It stings,” she says around it. “Oh, that’s sharp.” 

“Uh, here.” Yoobin steers her towards the sink. “I’ll grab you a bandage from the bathroom. Just keep that clean.” She backs off and hurries out of the kitchen without checking to see if Siyeon obeys. 

Minji stares at her while she passes. “Something wrong?” she calls. 

Yoobin just waves her hand as she goes. 

In the bathroom, when she opens the door, is Bora. She’s standing over one of the sinks. She looks ill. She jumps when Yoobin opens the door. “Are  _ you _ alright?” Yoobin finds herself asking while she heads for the first-aid kit in the corner. 

Bora shrugs. “Fine,” she says hoarsely. It’s clearly not true. “I’m okay.” She hunches her shoulders. 

Yoobin doesn’t pry, just opens the first-aid kit and searches through it for the box of band-aids. “Did something happen?” Bora asks. 

“Kitchen mishap.” The first box has two ace bandages in them. 

“Is Yoohyeon back yet?”

“Nope.” 

Bora makes a weird, squeaky noise. “She’s not?” she says. 

The third box is the charm. Yoobin pulls out two bandages, one smaller than the other, and shuts the first-aid kit. “Not yet. Minji hasn’t heard from her in a while.” She shakes her head. “I’m just trying not to think about it. We’ll know soon enough.” 

Bora combs her fingers through her messy hair. “Do you think she’ll come back?” 

Yoobin stops at the door, one hand on the doorknob. She drops her gaze to the orangish tiles. Someone should really clean them. “I… Don’t know if I can answer that,” she says. 

Bora presses her lips in a thin line. “Oh, come off it. She’s not. She walked into a trap. At least, that’s what you really think, right?” She sounds bitter. 

“Bora, calm down-” 

Bora shakes her head. “I’m sorry, does expressing emotion make you uncomfortable?” She crosses her arms. “Are you afraid of being  _ sad _ ?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yoobin says. It’s a phrase she’s said over and over again, both to herself and the other girl, and yet neither of them seem to believe it. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“Stop assuming what I’m doing!” 

“You only get like this when you’re mad at yourself.” Yoobin sighs. “I know you’re still upset. But we can’t have this conversation right now.” She holds up the bandages. “We’re making dinner.”

Bora scowls. “There’s no conversation to have, Yoobin,” she says, quite childishly at that. “I’m not mad at myself. I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at  _ anyone _ .” 

Yoobin can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make any of this worse. She settles on, “If you say so,” and hurries back out of there. She nearly collides with Gahyeon on the way out, mumbles an apology under her breath, and brings the bandages into the kitchen. 

“...Never have good news,” Minji is saying on the phone, and Yoobin feels a sudden chill wash over her entire body. “Please, Dad…”

She bursts into the kitchen with the bandages and pretends she hadn’t heard anything she’s heard in the past five minutes. Siyeon holds up her hand - there’s only a small slash on her finger - and lets Yoobin patch her up. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Siyeon comments quietly. 

“You’re the only person Bora’s gonna listen to,” Yoobin says, smoothing the small fabric patch. “Please,  _ please _ talk to her. She’s…”

Siyeon sighs. “I know exactly what she’s like. I’ll do my best.” She shakes her head. “She doesn’t want to talk about it. I’m starting to get worried. The last time she’s been this…  _ angry _ , it was middle school. And middle school universally sucks.” She looks over at the stove. “Let’s just finish dinner.”

Yoobin touches Siyeon’s hands. “I wish things could be different,” she says. 

“I do, too.”

They cook in silence, broken only by the sizzling of the food in the skillet. Whatever Minji’s phone call was about, it doesn’t seem to be that important - or maybe, it’s  _ too _ important, and she can’t find the words - because she doesn’t run in to tell them, or beg for anyone to come to the hospital with her, or do anything at all to suggest a positive or negative scenario. It’s frankly, a little frightening. Yoobin focuses on cooking the rice to keep her mind from exploding. 

It’s not the prettiest dish they’ve ever made, but it smells absolutely fantastic. Siyeon grabs five bowls and sends Yoobin out to go fetch the rest of them. Minji is gone when she steps out; the only sign that she was ever there is a crumpled blanket on the couch. Gahyeon is sitting on the chair next to the couch sideways, her eyes glued to her phone. She looks up, nods, and then drops her gaze again. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Yoobin says, making her way towards the younger girl. 

Gahyeon shrugs. “I’m not really that hungry right now,” she says, and she swipes something. “What did you make?”

“Just something,” Yoobin says. “Siyeon had the idea, I was just helping her.” She walks around the chair. “Pokemon Go?”

Gahyeon looks up at her. “Just like back in quarantine.” She sticks her tongue out. “Look, I’m bored, and sad.”

That makes Yoobin smile. “Aren’t we all,” she says. “Have you seen Minji?” 

“She went back into her room. She was on the phone.” Gahyeon sighs. “I’m trying not to think about it. If- If it- Nevermind.” She exits the app and opens up Instagram. The first post on her screen is a video of bunnies. 

Yoobin hums. “There’s a lot of things that I just don’t want to think about right now,” she says. She pushes off the chair and walks back off across the room, her intention being to head back into the dorm rooms. 

“Yoobin?” Gahyeon calls, as soon as she reaches the hallway. The older girl pauses and turns around. Gahyeon’s put her phone down. “Do you… Think everything’s going to be okay?”

Yoobin swallows, unsure how to answer that question. Clearly, she’s seeking comfort, but comfort isn’t the thing Yoobin can provide right now. She puts her hands on the doorjamb, shrugs. “I hope so,” she says, eventually.

“So it won’t,” Gahyeon mumbles. 

“Hey.” Yoobin holds up her hand. “I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

She snaps her jaw shut. Damn, she’s much easier to read than she thought. “A lot’s happened in the past couple of days, but it has to get better. Eventually. Everything gets better, right?” 

Gahyeon sighs. “What if you die? Or I die? Or more people die? Did it get better for us?” She curls up into a tighter ball on the couch. “I guess, maybe, if heaven is real, but what if it’s not? What if there’s nothing left? God.” She presses her hands to her face. 

“Gahyeon,” Yoobin says, “I love you, I really do, but I am not the person to have a religious crisis with.” She crosses back over to her. 

Gahyeon shakes her head. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t gotten drugged,” she mumbles. It’s difficult to make out through her hands. "Then she'd never have seen _him_."  


“Maybe,” Yoobin says. “But that wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.” Gahyeon peels her hands from her face and looks Yoobin right in the eyes. “And it’s not your fault that Handong is dead. And it’s not Bora’s. But fuck… It really feels like it sometimes.”

Yoobin is at a loss for words. She nods slowly. 

“I miss her,” Gahyeon says. “I miss her so, so much.”

Whatever Yoobin was about to say is cut off by loud, hurried footsteps, and they both look up to see a haggard Minji scrambling into the sitting room, throwing herself at the coffee table, and handling the remote with shaking hands. “What did he mean, look at the news?” she says out loud, flipping through the channels. 

“What?” Gahyeon says. Yoobin pushes away. 

Minji shakes her head. “Dad- He said- The news is covering something about Yoohyeon and-” She finally lands on the main news station and drops the remote. “Oh my God.” 

Right now, it’s a commercial. Minji stands, watching it with wide, terrified eyes and a hand pressed over her mouth. She looks like she’ll fall over in a light breeze. 

The first thing on screen when the news returns is helicopter footage of a section of the highway. Cop cars blink red and blue up and down the highway. “Late afternoon, a police car was noticed spinning off the highway,” the reporter says. Yoobin’s heart stops. “The wreckage was discovered near where one of the bodies was, but the second body has yet to be found.” The screen cuts to talking with a truck driver, who looks extremely distraught. “The driver of the truck that struck the first body had confirmed he has no relation to the woman.”

Minji pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Dad?” she says. "Dad, wait- Dad-"

"If anyone has any news on the whereabouts of this man-" Yoobin looks back to see a photograph of none other than  _ Officer fucking Shiang  _ flash onscreen, and her blood runs cold- "please call the following number. Audio recovered from the car suggests that he himself caused the crash and could be dangerous."

Minji makes a horrible squeaking sound and drops to the ground. "No, wait-" Gahyeon says, and she pushes herself out of the chair. Yoobin flinches away from the TV. 

"So- So he- It was- Oh,  _ no _ ," Minji mumbles incoherently. 

Siyeon, who's poked her head out of the kitchen, drops the dish she was holding. "Are you serious?" she says. She rushes out towards them. "Oh, god, no, no, no." She shakes her head. 

Yoobin crouches next to Minji and puts her hand on her shoulder. "At least, now we know," she says. "At least now we'll be safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont have a comment for this one. enjoy


	12. tick tock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right im not dead i was just unable to access a computer for a week and a half due to personal reasons. you get two updates this week. 
> 
> tw suicide for this chapter kind of... on...? until i say its not a problem anymore.

Minji paces back and forth when she's upset. It's a habit she's had since she was a child, and a habit that she doesn't think she'll be giving up soon. 

Unfortunately, her coping mechanism has gotten in the way of her sleep. Every time she lies down, her body tingles with nervous energy, and she has to push herself out of bed and obey the urges of her muscles until she's finally, finally, finally tired enough to go to sleep, and then five minutes later, she's up again. 

She paces her way into the bathroom and opens the medicine box. Fine, if she won't sleep naturally, she'll take some Benadryl. That always seems to knock her out. She rummages through the assorted bottles and packs in search of the pink pills. It's on the bottom; after all, it's been a few weeks since allergy season. She pulls it out, unscrews the lid, shakes three little pills into the hollow of her hand. 

For a brief moment, she hesitates. 

She  _ could _ take more. 

She looks at the mirror, at her tired, sunken eyes and messy hair, then back down at the pills, then shudders. Once she's able to leave the house again, she's calling a therapist, because  _ that's _ unhealthy. And also terrifying. She puts the lid back on the bottle and puts it back in the box. One cup of water to wash it down. 

She wanders out into the kitchen, walking on her toes, and notices halfway down the hallway that the light's on in. "Oh," she says, mostly to herself. She speeds up. 

Siyeon's sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. She jumps when Minji appears in the doorway. "Shit," she breathes. "You scared me."

"You can't sleep either, huh," Minji says, crossing the kitchen and picking up a glass from the drying rack. 

Siyeon sighs heavily. "Nope. What do you have there?" 

Minji sticks her hand out to show her. "Just Benadryl. I'm hoping it'll work." She fills the glass with tap water and brings it to her lips. Siyeon is giving her a look. "Relax. This is all I'm taking."

The younger girl nods. "Right, right. I didn't think you would- I just. Forgive me." She takes a sip of tea and grimaces. "Ow. Hey, why don't you sit down? We'll walk back together."

"Why not?" Minji walks back over and pulls a chair out. 

They sit in a not-uncomfortable silence, Siyeon swirling her tea around her mug and Minji taking small sips of water, until Siyeon takes another deep breath and says, "I'm worried about Bora."

"Oh, me too," Minji says. "I mean, I don't see her as much, what with school, but…"

"That's the thing. No one's seen her as much." Siyeon takes another drink of her tea. "She barely leaves her room, doesn't talk to anyone but me, and that's only when I go in there and talk to her myself. She snaps at everyone who even tries to talk to her." She puts her mug down and presses her hands to her face. "She's barely  _ eating _ , Minji. Something's clearly bothering her but every time I ask her she just tells me she needs some space, just needs some time, and I'm going to lose my mind." She takes a deep breath. " _ Fuck _ , man. I'm worried to leave her alone."

Minji pushes her water aside and reaches for the girl. "Hey. That's valid, um. Should we call someone?" She swallows. "Do you think she's going to… Y'know…?" 

Siyeon shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. I hope not. I don't think she's done anything yet, but I can't really  _ tell _ …" Her shoulders slump. "She probably still blames herself for Handong, which is stupid, but I get it. I guess. I've told her a hundred times that there was really nothing she could've done but she refuses to listen. I don't think she's going to get over it any time soon."

"She definitely isn't going to listen." Minji sighs. "Okay, I'm making an executive decision." She pushes away from the table and taps her hand on the kitchen table. "We're calling the hospital tomorrow. Just to like, see if they have space. And then we can get her somewhere." She nods firmly. "It's the best move. I really… Dammit, Siyeon." She scrubs a hand down her face. "I don't know what I'd do if…"

S iyeon puts a hand on Minji's. "Me either," she says. "Thank you. Really."

"Of course." Minji smiles. "Now, I think we should go back to bed. Or to bed, in my case." She stands up and bites back a yawn. "C'mon."

Siyeon rises too, picking up her mug and the other's glass as she does so. "I hope we didn't wake Yoobin," she says, with a little bit of a giggle. "I don't need her worrying either." She puts the glasses in the sink. 

"Yoobin sleeps like a rock," Minji says, waving one of her hands flippantly. "She'll be fine." 

Siyeon crosses to Minji and grabs her hand, squeezes. "And so will you, and so will I, and so will Bora and Gahyeon," she says. 

"Exactly!" Minji chirps. 

They walk back to their room, linking arms. Minji falls into her bed and falls asleep. She dreams of absolutely nothing. 

She wakes up at noon, and there are three missed calls from her father and two texts, one from Gahyeon asking if she used up all the milk. She clicks the voicemail and listens to her father's forlorn voice mumbling his condolences. He sounds upset, too. 

"But, I have good news, and bad news, and an apology, too. We uncovered some things on Miss Handong's case that I'd rather not share with you in a voicemail, mostly because, well, you know how I'm not supposed to share these things." He pauses to cough. "Call me when you get this. It's important. 

"I love you, Minji. Stay safe."

Minji pulls the phone away from her ear as the answering machine takes over, reading out the date and time when the message was received. Her heart has leapt into her throat. What new things could he have uncovered? Her thoughts race ahead of her, running in circles. She pushes the blankets off of her and hurries to call her father back. "Dad? Dad, what do you mean?" she stammers by way of greeting. 

" Good afternoon, Minji," he says. He shuffles some papers on his desk, judging from the sound. "You woke up late."

She combs her fingers through her hair. "Y-Yeah, I took a Benadryl, couldn't sleep," she says. "What did you mean?"

"You want the good news or the bad news first?" 

She hesitates. "Good?" 

"The good news is, seeing as our prime suspect is either dead or fleeing the country, you are free to leave the dorms again, effective immediately." 

"That's fantastic, Dad," she says, and she lets herself relax a bit. She'll be able to get more milk. "And… And the bad news?"

He doesn't talk for a long, long time. Then: "The bad news is, that I fucked up, Minji."

She feels her heart drop. "Wh-What do you mean, Dad?" she asks. Her voice has a whine to it. "How?"

"After the crash, we were able to recover the dashboard footage from the car, and from what we we heard, Officer Shiang had… He had intended to kill Miss Yoohyeon, and he admitted in the footage to killing Handong."

She whimpers. "So… He did do it," she says, more to herself. She balls her blanket in her fist. "And-"

"And I accidentally enabled him killing Yoohyeon, too. If I had trusted my gut, none of this would've happened. He'd be in jail, instead of God-knows-where, and you'd have your friend, and this conversation wouldn't be happening. But we didn't have any evidence, and he needed to do something, so…" 

"Oh, my God." It's all she can think of saying. She can't think anymore. 

"You're allowed to hate me. I'm pretty damn mad at myself right now, too." 

"Can I go tell the others?" she asks, sniffles, wipes her eyes. "Please? I mean, we- we kinda- it was- Yoobin figured it out a long time ago." 

Her father makes a noise, half in between a cough and a choke. "I can't stop you," he says eventually. "But you probably shouldn't."

"That's- That's good enough. Thank you for telling me." She swallows and hangs up before he can respond so he doesn't hear the animalistic sob she knows she won't be able to contain. She curls into a ball, dig her fingers into her hair, and  _ wails _ . She doesn't care who hears her. 

"Shit, Minji," Gahyeon says from the doorway. "Are you- Are you okay?"

Minji looks up at the younger girl, who's wrapped herself in a pink blanket. Her brown eyes peek out from under her hood; they look scared. She shakes her head. "N-no," she stammers, rubbing a hand across her face. "Fuck n-no." 

Gahyeon shuffles across the room. "Wanna talk about it?" she offers. 

Minji pushes her blanket aside to make room for the smaller girl. "We were right," she says with a deep breath. "Shiang killed Handong."

Gahyeon's eyes go wide. "How'd we figure this out? I thought he was, well, dead-"

"He admitted it," she mumbles, "in the car. They recovered the footage. He was gonna kill her, too, but, well, she fought back." She sniffs. "Not that it matters, in the end."

Gahyeon stares at the ground. "Holy shit," she says, her voice a breathy whisper. "And now he's dead."

"Hopefully." Minji shakes her head. "I won't believe it until I see the body myself."

The younger girl shrugs. "I mean, they showed us the car on TV this morning. It's a miracle that Yoohyeon managed to crawl her way out, it was all busted and shit…" She shakes her head. "That's so fucked. I'm so sorry."

Minji leans her head on Gahyeon's shoulder and whimpers. "This shouldn't be happening," she says. "None of this should be happening."

"Yeah…"

They sit like that for a while, until Minji's breathing slows and she can see clearly. She picks her head off Gahyeon's shoulder and wipes at her eyes again. "Thank you," she says. "For sitting with me. Are you okay?"

Gahyeon lifts one of her hands from the blanket and wraps it around the elder's shoulders. "Probably not. I don't really feel anything, just… I dunno. I'm numb." She smiles warily. "It's not good, but it's… better than… Better than…"

"Better than Bora?" Minji suggests.

Gahyeon sighs. "I was trying not to say that."

Minji pushes herself off of the bed and smooths her pyjama shirt. It's stained with tears and snot. "I'm gonna be taking her to the hospital," she says. "Siyeon's worried she's gonna hurt herself, and frankly, so am I."

She walks over to her dresser and starts pulling open the drawers. Gahyeon watches her. "I mean, she seems better today," she says. "She smiled during breakfast, even when we didn't have any milk. Maybe she's getting better."

Minji pulls out a white blouse, with flowing batwing sleeves and a ripple on the collar. "Maybe."

"I don't think she has to go to the hospital," Gahyeon says. "Just… Maybe we shouldn't leave her alone. She might get angry if we just…  _ take _ her, anyway."

Minji presses her lips into a thin line. "I guess that makes sense," she says. She takes a pair of black jeans from the bottom drawer and tosses them over her shoulder. "I'll talk to Siyeon about it." And then she nudges Gahyeon's side. "Get out so I can get changed."

"Will do." The girl picks herself up. "I think it's gonna be okay, Minji. I knew, as soon as I saw the news today, that it was gonna be okay." 

She backs out of the doorway, swinging the door shut behind her. Minji sighs. 

It sounds like Yoobin's been talking to her, which is a good thing. Yoobin's got a good grasp of herself. She's the person to talk to in any kind of mental health crisis - unless you're Bora, clearly. 

She picks up her hairbrush and runs it through her hair a couple of times. But maybe they've been able to break through to her. Maybe Bora really just needed some space. Maybe it really is going to be fine. 

The brush snags on a knot; she winces. It's not going to be fine. Yoohyeon and Handong are still going to be gone. There is no replacing them.

She swallows. Yoohyeon would want her to mourn; Handong, not so much. She'll settle on a compromise and put on a brave face for the others, then retreat when she needs to cry. Lord knows everyone else is doing the same.  


The common room is busy, but not like it used to be. It feels more frenetic, panicked, as if they are trying to distract themselves at all times. "I have class till three," Siyeon is saying. "But I can pick something up after then-"

"Hang on," Yoobin says. She's sitting on one of the chairs in the common room sideways, a lollipop in her hand. "I had an idea."

"Yes?" Siyeon asks, leaning back from the doorway.

Minji studies the people in the room - Gahyeon is sitting on one end of the couch, and Bora is on the other, balancing a plate in her lap. Yoobin swings her legs around so she's facing front. "Shouldn't we have a buddy system in place, when we're off campus? Just in case."

"He's dead," Gahyeon mumbles. She's still wrapped in her blanket.

Minji clears her throat. "She's got a point," she says. She steps into the common area and sits down at the other chair. "This way we can keep an eye on each other. Until we know for sure at least."

She looks directly at Siyeon. Siyeon raises an eyebrow. "I mean, that does make sense," she says. 

"But there's five of us," Bora says. "Is one of us going to be left here alone?"

Yoobin leans on her hand. "Either three of us go out at once, or two of us do, then, or all of us, if we want to," she says. She points at Minji with the lollipop. "But like you said, it'd just be until we know for sure. No more than a week or two."

"A week," Bora says. She pushes her fork around the plate, making an awful screeching noise. "I guess."

Gahyeon pulls the blanket tighter around her. "Sounds good to me."

"So, who's getting the milk?" Siyeon asks. "I have to go, so we should, like, figure this out…" 

Yoobin raises her hand. "We'll go, tonight. My last class wraps up at five." She swallows. "But if anyone else wants to go, that's alright."

Minji darts her eyes from Yoobin to Bora to Siyeon and back to Yoobin again. There's an entire conversation happening in the looks people are giving each other that she's having trouble keeping up with. "I can stay behind," she ventures, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. "That's fine."

"I don't really wanna go shopping," Gahyeon says. 

Bora says nothing, just stares at her plate. 

"Okay!" Siyeon says. "Okay. That sounds good to me. Minji, can I talk to you really quick before I go?" She curls her finger and calls her over. 

Minji obliges, and the two of them step outside. "What's up?" she asks. 

"When are you taking her to the hospital, then?" Siyeon says, her voice hushed despite the shut door behind them. 

Minji startles. "Oh, well…" She shrugs. "She seems to be doing better today. And she probably won't be receptive, and… I'm not doing so hot myself, Siyeon." She sighs, folding her arms over her chest. "At least I can admit that I'm having a problem."

"Right," Siyeon says. "I… I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea to not do it. She needs something." She puts her hand on Minji's shoulder. "And you need something."

Minji nods. "How about this. I'll stay behind to keep an eye on her - I don't think Gahyeon's stable enough to be on suicide watch, anyway, what with her being numb and all, but I am. You and Yoobin go out and get groceries. If anything goes wrong, I'll call for help immediately, and the three of us will go with her to the hospital. We'll text you and Yoobin any updates. Okay?"

Siyeon bites her lip. "It's not… Ideal. I want to know she'll be safe."

"She will be. I promise." Minji picks up Siyeon's hand and gives it a squeeze. "Bora’s my friend, too, and I care about her just as much as you do. I don't know what I'd do if any more of us… Here." She pulls Siyeon into a hug. Siyeon melts into it; her fingernails dig into Minji's back.

"Thank you," Siyeon says. "Thank you." She peels away, wipes at her eyes. "This is going to be okay."

Minji nods and tries to smile. The expression on her face feels strained and painful. "Yep," she says. "Have fun in class."

Siyeon shakes her head. "It's calculus. It's not gonna be fun." She backs off down the steps, pulling her black mask out of her pocket as she does so. Minji watches her run through the parking lot and lets out a deep sigh. 

The day passes agonizingly slowly. Minji spends it puttering around the kitchen, washing the dishes from breakfast and then some more that she finds around the rooms. All the while, she keeps one eye on Bora, who's stretched out on the couch, watching TV. Gahyeon has gone into her room - something about an online class, and Yoobin left a bit ago for her classes. 

Minji finally runs out of dishes to wash after forty-five minutes. She wipes her hands on her jeans and heads out into the common area. Bora has yet to move. The only sign that she's still alive out there is her eyes tracking Minji as she goes to sit on the other end of the sofa. "What're you watching?" Minji asks. 

"Just whatever," Bora says. She picks up the remote and presses the guide button. "It's kind of really bad. I don't know why I'm watching it."

Minji smiles softly. "Sometimes really bad is all you need," she says. "Like, bad acting, or what?"

"Bad everything." Bora pops her head up on one hand and rolls her eyes, a soft smirk playing across her face. Minji mentally relaxes at that. "The acting is terrible, and then the writing is even worse, and the plot is so  _ cliche _ , and I don't know how it's been running for four seasons." She waves the remote at the other girl. "You can change it, if there's something else you'd like to watch, but not much is on right now."

Minji waves her hand. "Eh, I don't really care."

Bora shrugs and puts the remote on the table as the drama cuts back to commercial. They sit in silence for a moment, before she says, "I know what you're doing. It's not subtle."

"What do you mean?" Minji asks.

Bora stares at her. "It's not subtle," she says. "You think I'm going to hurt myself, don't you."

Minji swallows and shrugs. "It's more of a general worry." She looks at her hands. "We're all stressed right now. I think we're just trying to keep out for each other, you know?" Curls her hands into fists, presses them into her legs. "Yoohyeon was telling me how distant we'd become after Handong… It's not right."

"I love Siyeon," Bora mumbles into her arm, "but she can really worry. Especially about me." She sighs. "I dunno. It feels like she's trying to guilt me into not doing anything, at least, that's what I feel like, even if she wouldn't- even though  _ I _ wouldn't, don't look at me like that." 

"I promised her I'd take you to the hospital if anything goes wrong," Minji says. Her eyes flash. "Don't test me."

Bora sits up. "Oh, my god, you don't need to do that!" She covers her mouth, hiding a wary smile. "Seriously, I'm okay. I wouldn't be talking to you if I were in any danger, promise." She leans forward and puts a hand on Minji's arm. " _ Promise _ ."

Minji stares at Bora's eyes, at the way the smile on her face doesn't reach them, and furrows her brow. "Bora, I don't think I can believe that - you look exhausted."

"Ah, yeah." Bora falls back on the couch, her arm over her forehead. "I haven't been sleeping well since… It's been a week or two." 

Minji tilts her head. "Why didn't you just say so?" she says. "I can give you some Benadryl. Maybe you can take a nap." 

Bora nods. "That sounds  _ fantastic _ ," she says, without moving from her spot. "A nap and some iced coffee and I'll be back to normal."

Minji pushes herself off the couch and heads back to the bathroom. She passes Gahyeon's room; the girl's sitting on her bed, blanket over her head, laptop in her lap. She knocks on the door. Gahyeon pulls an earbud out and hits the spacebar. "Yeah?"

"I'm giving Bora some Benadryl," Minji says, "to help her take a nap. She seems to be doing better, though."

Gahyeon's face slowly splits into a smile. "See? I told you. Everything's going to be okay." She waves her hand. "Okay, now get out, I'm still in class." 

Minji does so, enters the bathroom, pulls out the medicine box. She shakes a couple pills into her hand. She can't shake the feeling that not all is as it seems, but she ignores it. It's probably just her anxiety talking.

She takes the pills back out of the bathroom and hands them to Bora, who's already grabbed herself a glass of water. Bora smiles and washes them down eagerly. "Thanks, Minji," she says, rising from the couch with grace. "I'll see you in a few hours." 

Minji watches her walk back towards her room. 

Sure enough, Bora's awake by five, with a new, familiar spring in her step, and Minji feels her worries wash away. "I'll cook," she says, clapping her hands. "It's only fair. But you can help, if you'd like."

Yoobin twirls the keys around her finger. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until we're back?" she asks. "There's not much here…"

Bora shrugs. "We've made due on less before," she says. "Don't worry, me and Minji will come up with something." Her eyes glitter and she loops her arm through Minji's. Minji squeaks.

"Hang on, I don't think I agreed," Minji says, but she can't help but smile. 

"Too late! You're my sous chef." 

Siyeon hides a giggle behind her hand. "Alrighty then," she says. She taps Yoobin's shoulder. "Should we get going, then?"

Yoobin nods. "We'll be back soon," she says. "Jeez, it looks dark out there. You don't think it's gonna rain, do you?"

Siyeon deflates. "I really hope not," she says. "It's rained enough for the rest of the year." 

Minji waves at the two girls as they head back out the dorm. It sure looks overcast outside. It's odd, the amount of rain they've been getting. She looks back over at Bora when the door clicks shut. "Alrighty, Bora. What are we doing?"

Bora lets go of Minji's arm and twirls around her towards the fridge. "Excellent question!" she chirps. "Let's see, what do we have…"

She starts pulling out packages of leftovers and other containers and stacking them on the table. Minji just takes a backseat and watches her. 

"It's good to have you back, Bora," she says, when the smaller girl starts opening the shrimp. 

Bora just smiles at her and says nothing. 

Somehow, despite the sparse ingredients and questionable instructions, the duo manages to produce something… Edible. Minji hesitates to call it  _ good _ , but it will suffice for tonight. She's mostly just glad to hear Bora laughing again. They call Gahyeon in and scoop out three bowls of Something. They leave the rest for Yoobin and Siyeon. 

After dinner, Gahyeon volunteers to do the dishes, and Bora and Minji go sit outside. "This was fun," Bora says, suddenly very solemn. One of their favorite game shows is playing, but the volume is extremely quiet. “I’m glad we did this.”

“Me too,” Minji says. She leans over to give Bora an awkward side hug. The smaller girl wiggles around and turns it into a real one. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”

Bora hums. “I guess,” she says. She pulls away. 

“Though it would’ve been nice if it tasted better,” Minji laughs as she speaks. “That sure was something.” 

Bora shoves her side. “We  _ were _ working with limited ingredients!” 

“And who didn’t want to wait?” Minji pushes back, and they both start laughing. It is interrupted by Minji’s phone ringing - it’s Yoobin. “Oh, shit,” she says, digging the phone out of her pocket. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Bora says. “See ya.” 

Minji waves at her and presses her phone to her ear. “Hey,” she says. “What’s up?” 

“Here, take this- Oh, shit, Minji.” Something in the car clicks. “Right, so, something’s come up, and we’re going to be a bit late.” 

Minji leans forward. “What? What happened? Are you and Siyeon-”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Mostly.” 

“We found a clue!” Siyeon shouts. 

“Yup. A clue,” Yoobin says. 

Minji grips the phone tighter. “Wh- What do you mean, you found a  _ clue _ ? Shouldn’t you call the police?” 

Yoobin mutters something unintelligible. “Yeah, that worked well the last time, didn’t it? It wasn’t my idea. It’s only a couple of minutes out of the way. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Siyeon says something now, but Minji can’t make it out. “So- So what are you going to do?” she asks. 

“We’re just swinging by this place Siyeon knows to check something out,” Yoobin replies. “Twenty minutes, give or take, right?”

“Well…” Minji swallows. “Stay safe, okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

“Not yet. We’ll contact you if we do. See you soon, Minji.” Yoobin hangs up, and Minji stares at her phone. Her heart has begun to pound again. She puts her phone back in her pocket and tries to focus on the TV screen. It proves a difficult task. 

Gahyeon comes back out of the kitchen some time later, wiping her hands on a towel, and sits next to her. “Where’re Siyeon and Yoobin?” she asks. She curls her feet under her. 

“Yoobin said they’re gonna be late,” Minji replies. Her thumbnail is in her mouth. “They said twenty minutes, maybe.” She glances at the clock. “It’s been fifteen.”

“And where’s Bora?” Gahyeon wrinkles her face and looks around. “I woulda thought she’d want to wait for them and show off her creation.”

Minji shrugs. “She said she’s taking a shower,” she says. 

Gahyeon groans. “Ugh. I really gotta go,” she whines. “Do you think she’ll mind if I were to walk in?”

“Probably not. She has been in there for a while.” Minji sighs. “She hasn’t showered in a while, so she’s probably taking her time.” 

Gahyeon nods. “Probably.”

Time ticks on slowly, slowly, slowly. Twenty minutes have passed since the phone call. Minji fishes her phone out of her pocket to call back. Gahyeon stands up. “Fuck it, I’m not pissing myself on the couch,” she mutters, and she hurries down the hall. 

Minji just nods and calls Yoobin back. The girl picks up on the third ring. “Yeah?”

“Where are you?” 

Yoobin sighs. “Minji, we  _ just _ made it to the place,” she says. “It’s gonna be a bit longer.”

“I miscalculated, sorry,” Siyeon says. Her voice sounds muffled, like it’s stuffed up by something. 

Minji digs her fingers into her knees. “Okay, so? When will you be back?”

“Half an hour?” Yoobin asks, more to Siyeon than herself. 

Siyeon makes a noise of agreement. “Sounds about right. We’ll be faster since we know where we’re going.”

Minji is about to say something, and then Gahyeon screams from down the hall. “Bora!” she’s screaming. The phone drops from Minji’s hand, and she scrambles to pick it up again. 

“Okay, sounds great gotta go bye-” she says, and she starts running down the hallway before her friends can ask her what’s wrong.


	13. fight, part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was brought to you by one can of arizona, red moon by kard on loop for two hours, and jojo's bizarre adventure. this is where things start getting like...really weird. 
> 
> apologies for formatting weirdness, google docs finally chose to cooperate with what i wanted to do

"Should we go to the corner store or the grocery store?" Yoobin asks, as Siyeon is sliding in the car. 

Siyeon looks at her phone, checking the time, and shrugs. "It'll be cheaper if we go to the grocery store," she says. "By like, fifty cents."

"Is that worth a ten minute drive?" 

She sighs. "I haven't worked in a week, you haven't worked in a week, we have some more things that we need… I'd say the answer is yes." She clicks her seatbelt into place. "Bora seems to have dinner under control, at least."

Yoobin hums. "I'm worried about her," she says, as they pull out into the street. 

"So am I." Siyeon leans against the window. "But Minji  _ promised _ , and she keeps good on her promises." 

Yoobin clicks the turn signal. "People who've made up their minds tend to be happier the day before," she says solemnly. "I've seen it happen."

Siyeon digs her fingernails into her knees. "Let's- Let's stop talking about this, please," she says. "I have faith in Minji and Gahyeon and her. She wouldn't do something this stupid. She's better than that. What do you  _ mean _ , you've seen it happen?" She leans forward and stares at the other girl, who looks impassively at the road in front of her. "Care to explain?"

"I really don't want to."

Siyeon's face softens. "That's understandable, I guess. Trauma and all that."

Yoobin grimaces. "That sure is a word for it." 

Siyeon reaches for the radio and turns it on. It crackles through static for a brief moment before a remarkably bubbly and completely unfitting pop song warbles out. "Shit, you gotta get this fixed," Yoobin mutters, more to herself than anyone else. 

The corner of Siyeon's mouth twists into a small smile. "Yeah, this sounds possessed," she says. "The devil's coming for you and he's speaking to you in LOONA." 

Yoobin laughs. " _ God _ , Siyeon-"

Siyeon nudges her side. "Nope! It's the devil! Listen-" and she starts singing along, purposefully as bad as she can. She makes eye contact with Yoobin and the two girls fall apart. For the first time in a week, they genuinely laugh in a shared moment of stupidity. It's almost like old times. 

The song switches to commercial, and the moment passes. Siyeon wipes her eye and leans on the armrest. "Oh, man, that was good," she says. 

Yoobin hits the button to turn the radio off again. "Now you know why I tend to drive in silence," she says. 

"And here I thought you were just brooding." Siyeon raises an eyebrow. 

Yoobin shrugs. "Can't say there's not a bit of that there, too." 

Siyeon giggles again. "Never change," she says. 

They smile at each other, in a blessed moment of friendship, and Siyeon completely forgets about her stress. The rest of the drive to the grocery store passes in relative quiet, broken only by the girl's humming to herself. "I think," she ends up saying, while Yoobin parallel parks in front of the small grocery store they tend to use, "that when this is all over with, and everything's stable again, I'm gonna do something special for Bora. She deserves that much, at least. I feel bad for her."

Yoobin nods and twists the key in the ignition. "What kind of something special?" she asks, tilting her head. "The kind you need help for?" 

Siyeon laughs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know. Maybe. I might just do something small." She pushes her door open and climbs out. 

"It's your call," Yoobin says. "But if you need any assistance, I know that Gahyeon would trip over herself to offer."

Siyeon covers her face with her hands. "Oh, god,  _ no _ ," she says. "Gahyeon'd go overboard. I don't think we could do that." 

Yoobin shrugs and hops up on the curb. "You'd be surprised," she comments. 

Siyeon just shakes her head. She picks up a basket by the entrance of the store. 

It doesn't take long for them to find what they need - milk, eggs, a package of cubed beef, some vegetables, bread, the usual stuff. Siyeon keeps gravitating back to the candy section. She eventually settles on some sweet and sour gobstoppers as a treat for herself. Yoobin throws a bag of chips in for fun. 

When they go to leave the store, Siyeon notices right away that once again, it's trying to rain. She groans. "You're kidding me, right?" she says, slumping over.

Yoobin sighs, scanning the road. "Since when did we have a rainy season?" she asks rhetorically. 

"I don't know," Siyeon mumbles. She straightens up and tightens her grip on the plastic bags. "Let's get home before-"

Something in the alley besides the store clatters to the ground, and she jumps. The bags slip from her hands. "What was that?" she says.

Yoobin crouches and picks up the bags. "Probably just a stray cat or something," she says. "No need to…" She trails off, silenced by something starting to cry. 

" _ Help _ ," wails a masculine sounding voice. "Someone, please, help." Something about it sounds familiar, but Siyeon can't quite place where she's heard it before. She looks at Yoobin, who shrugs slowly, her eyes wide as dinner plates. 

"Should we call someone?" Siyeon asks. Her feet are already carrying her towards the alley. She curls her hand into her chest and peeks around the corner, but she can't see anything from here. She glances back at Yoobin. 

The other girl nods. "Are you investigating?" she asks. 

The sobs from the shadows continue, getting more and more insistent. Siyeon swallows. "I-I just need to see. This is leaving a bad taste in my mouth."

"Alright. Then I'll call someone…" Yoobin's voice moves in the direction of the car. Siyeon turns back around, steels herself, and eases her way into the alley. 

Perhaps it's because of the overcast sky and the setting sun and the coming rain, or maybe it's the high pitched panic of the man's voice, or maybe it's the sinking feeling in her gut, but something about all of this feels  _ wrong _ . Her footsteps ring loud as thunderclaps as she walks into the alley. "Hello?" she calls, her voice barely above a breathy whisper. "Where are you? What happened?"

"C-Come here," the voice says. It's coming from behind a dumpster. "Pl-Please, help."

Siyeon would hurry towards him, but something strikes her as off, about the voice. It's  _ eager _ , like it  _ wants _ her to come towards it. A voice in the back of her head starts whispering,  _ Trap, trap, trap _ . She shakes her head to clear it and takes another tentative step forward. "Who are you?" she whispers. "What happened?" 

"I w-was just walking," the voice stammers. She inches closer. "And then all of a sudden I was-"

A shape lunges out of the shadows and slams into her. She opens her mouth to scream, but a grimy, bloody hand is clamped over her mouth. "My god, you're stupid," the speaker says. "Shiang was right." The man loops his other arm around her back. 

_ Shiang? _ Siyeon writhes, trying to free herself. Her feet scrabble on the wet ground. She can't find purchase. She stares at the man - his face is familiar, like she's seen him before, but only once or twice. He has an interesting face, one that's currently speckled with blood.

"Wait," he says. "You're not the  _ pretty _ one." 

He drops her on the ground, and she takes the opportunity to scamper away. Her nice shirt is stained where his hand was; her thighs hurt from the impact. She uses the wall to help herself upright. "The… pretty one?" she echoes. Her heart is pounding in her ears. 

"Where's your pink-haired friend?" he says. He shoves a hand in his pocket. "The one me and Shiang discussed? What's her name?"

_ Gahyeon _ ? Siyeon realizes. Her breath catches in her throat as a piece suddenly slips into place. The bloody face in front of her grins. In her memory, a man behind a bar grins. "What the  _ fuck _ ?" she breathes, curling her hands into fists. 

"Guess you'll have to do," the bartender mutters. He pulls something shiny out of his pocket; the light catches on it, revealing it to be a long, deadly looking knife. Siyeon realizes that she's going to die. 

_ No _ , she thinks, gritting her teeth.  _ Not me. _ Anger courses through her veins. Her blood runs red-hot. She tries to think back to those self defense classes she's sat through, the taekwondo she took as a kid, and remembers: the elbow is the strongest point in the body. 

The bartender raises the knife, and she charges right at him. She swings her arm and catches him off guard. Her elbow slams right into his shocked looking face, catches on his teeth. Pain shoots up to her shoulder. She staggers backwards, circles her arm. “Will I?” she taunts. 

The bartender presses a hand to his face. Fresh blood drips from his nose; he wipes it, spits on the ground. “Oh, you’re tougher than you look,” he says. He circles around her. “This might be a challenge.” 

Siyeon swallows. Brings her hands up to her face. Wishes she had a knife. Images from action movies flicker through her mind - if she can disarm him, she can get the knife, she can get the upperhand-

She doesn’t need to do that. 

They have a gun.

She looks over her shoulder and prays that Yoobin’s heard the commotion. She knows the girl well enough to know she’d come to her rescue first before letting the police touch her - truth be told, after the disaster that Yoohyeon’s death had been, Siyeon finds herself less trusting of the institution, but she doesn’t have time to think about that right now-

She snaps her head back around just as the bartender slashes at her stomach. Adrenaline takes over and she hops backward, but not without the blade biting into her stomach. She gasps, closes her eyes, presses her hand to the wound. It’s warm and wet and sticky and she doesn’t like that she knows that now. She needs to get out of here, needs to run. 

Her foot catches on a pebble and flies from under her, sending her to the ground. Her head smacks into concrete. The wind leaves her lungs. She gasps and gasps and gasps and little black dots swirl in her vision. They block the face of the bartender as he looms over her, raising the knife. “I do this for my god,” he is saying, and then there are two of them, then three - she is dizzy. “He will appreciate your sacrifice.”

He makes to plunge the knife down just as she manages to take a breath; she uses the momentum to roll to the side, and the knife just misses her shoulder. Further movement is blocked by one of his stick-like legs. She rolls up, wraps her arms around his knees - there is a blade now digging into her left shoulder blade and all she can think about is the pain. She pulls at his knee. He curses; his knee buckles under her grip; he falls on top of her. Metal skitters across pavement. He’s dropped the knife. Oh, god, he’s dropped the knife. 

She lifts her good arm and pushes him in the gut and manages to free herself from the tangle of his limbs. Standing would be a waste of time, so she crawls towards where the light is glittering off the knife blade, stretches her hand out, just barely manages to reach it. She tugs it towards her with her good arm, gets it under her, goes to stand, and her head is cracked against the concrete. “You’re not getting away so easy,” it sounds like he’s saying. “I can’t fail. I refuse-”

He’s cut off by a gunshot; his words change to a garbled  _ “Fuck.”  _ He stumbles backwards a few steps.

When Siyeon lifts her head, Yoobin is backlit in the alley, her hand outstretched. “That’s what I thought, you fucking monster,” she’s saying. She cocks the gun again.

Siyeon moans by way of greeting. Blood is trickling down her face - from her nose, from above her right eye - and everything hurts, but she rolls around and pushes herself to her knees. The man is stumbling back and forth, one hand pressed to his side. “You-You have a gun,” he says, shocked and confused. 

Siyeon wipes her eye - it stings from the blood - and pushes herself, shakily, to her feet. Her left shoulder pulses with pain. “Thank you,” she says, taking steps towards Yoobin. 

“Holy shit,” Yoobin breathes. “He was trying to kill you.”

Siyeon shrugs with her right shoulder. “Of course he is,” she says. Talking is difficult. She winces and leans against Yoobin’s side. “He’s working with Shiang.”

Yoobin tenses. She turns back to the man in the alley, who’s still standing somehow. “You know an Officer Shiang?” she calls, without dropping the gun. 

The bartender spits. “I suppose,” he says, which isn’t very convincing. “What does it matter to you?” 

Yoobin and Siyeon exchange a quick look. “Everything,” she says. She tilts her head towards Siyeon, whispers, "What do you think we should do?"

"Logically?" Siyeon's ribs sting where the blade slashed them. "We should call the police and get the fuck out of here." 

"But you don't want to do that."

She shakes her head. "Absolutely not. I want to rip Shiang's throat out with my  _ teeth _ ." She sucks in a breath. 

"God will not appreciate this delay," the man says. His voice hinges on the edge of madness. "He will be angry-"

Yoobin fires the gun without looking. It sounds like it hits the concrete. Siyeon shivers. "Shut up," she says to the man. "We'll talk later." She turns back to Siyeon - her eyes flash with something that's unmistakably  _ fear _ . "I didn't think you'd have that in you, Siyeon."

"I could say the same for you, Yoobin," Siyeon says. 

"There's a first aid kit in the trunk." Yoobin nudges Siyeon off and strides towards the bartender. Siyeon sways uneasily for a bit, but doesn't move, doesn't take her eyes off the other woman. 

The bartender tries to back away; all he succeeds in doing is falling on his ass - it brings a small smirk to Siyeon's lips. "You are simply delaying the inevitable," he says. "Your fate's been sealed, you and all the rest. God's will is not to be-"

"I told you, be quiet," Yoobin says. She curls her fingers in the man's collar and pulls him upright. "When you wake up, you're taking us to where Shiang is. Understand?" She raises the butt end of the gun. 

"Do you understand, Yoobin?" the man says, before trailing off into a maniacal laugh. 

Yoobin cracks him in the side of the head with the butt of the gun. He falls silent, limp. She starts to drag him back out of the alley. "Get to the car, Siyeon," she says. "We have to move before someone finds us. They had to have heard  _ that _ ."

Siyeon staggers backwards towards the car. Her left arm dangles limply at her side, but her hand still holds the knife. "Are we stopping at the hospital?" she asks, even though she knows the answer.

Yoobin shakes her head, her face set in a grim line. "No, we don't have time. I think I can take care of it."

She drags the bartender's unconscious body down to the car, opens the door, heaves him in, steps back to catch her breath. Siyeon leans against the hood of the car. "Did you learn that from your father?" she asks, as she walks around to the passenger seat. 

"Unfortunately." Yoobin stares at her hands. "Perhaps, I'm more like him than I thought."

She climbs into the driver's seat.

They drive ten minutes out and pull next to a small park, the bartender unconscious in the backseat the whole time. The gravity of what they're doing doesn't hit Siyeon until Yoobin's pulled the first aid kit out and is tending to her wounds. 

They have one gun and a questionable amount of ammo, and one knife, and one of them is injured. They don't know what Shiang has - hell, they don't even know where they're going. They're going to be relying on a helluva lot of luck. 

"Close your eyes," Yoobin mumbles, holding up a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. The car reeks of the stuff. Siyeon obeys, winces when the younger presses the ball to her eyebrow. "You look tense."

Siyeon curls her fingers into her knee. "Of course I am," she says. "This is quite possibly the stupidest idea we've ever had."

Paper rustles, the kind that surrounds a bandage. Yoobin sticks it to Siyeon's eyebrow and smooths it. "It really is," she says. When Siyeon opens her eyes, the other girl is looking at the backseat and the man stretched out on it. "The only thing we have going for us is the element of surprise."

"And anger," Siyeon says. Her fingers curl into fists. "I want him to hurt."

Yoobin sighs. "Revenge is never a good motive," she says, and she sounds like she's talking from experience. "Put this in your nose." 

Siyeon obeys. Her injured arm has been put in a makeshift sling. "It's not just revenge. I want to keep the others safe. We cannot let them die." Her voice is muffled by the cotton ball. " _ I _ would rather die than let that happen."

"I know." Yoobin squeezes Siyeon's left hand. "How's your stomach?"

"Stings like a bitch, but it's bearable." Siyeon squeezes back. "Let's just get something clear right now - are we planning on killing them, or bringing them back with us?"

Yoobin pales. "Bringing them back. I don't know if I could actually  _ kill _ someone, regardless of the things they've done." She looks down at her hands; her eyes are wide. Siyeon gets the sense that she's not all there right now, that she's half here and half in the past. 

There's a noise from the backseat, like someone trying to stand up. Both girls turn around in a flash. The man moans. "Where the fuck am I?" he says. 

"Do you remember what I asked you?" Yoobin says. Her tone shifts completely; she's almost authoritarian. Siyeon lifts her chin. 

The man lurches upright. His hands are bound by medical tape, which isn't very strong, but it keeps him from running. His bloodied face breaks into a smile. "Very clearly, Yoobin," he says. "You want me to show you where Shiang is."

"Don't think about calling him," Siyeon says. "And don't think about running, either. We only need you alive to get us there."

Yoobin looks at her out of the corner of her eye -  _ I told you we weren't killing them _ . Siyeon half shrugs -  _ Intimidation?  _ "When I tell you to, you are going to sit up and let me pull you into the front, and then you are going to drive," Yoobin says. "Don't try to crash the car or lead us elsewhere."

He shakes his head. "You don't have to worry about that." He lifts his bound hands. "Lead the way, Yoobin."

Siyeon gets out of the passenger seat to join Yoobin in the back. The man makes no attempt to fight back, no attempt to run. It leaves a bad taste in her mouth. She slips in the backseat and pulls the man's cracked phone out of her pocket. No texts, no calls, no notifications. The time reads 6:14. 

"You should call Minji," Siyeon says, once they're situated. 

Yoobin mumbles a swear under her breath. "Yeah, you're right." She digs her phone out of her pocket, presses it to her ear. "Here, take this- oh, shit, Minji." 

She pushes the handle of the gun into Siyeon's hand. Siyeon flinches, but takes it nonetheless. She leans forward and presses it against the man's shoulder. "You? Don't say a word," she says, her voice a rough whisper. "For all intents and purposes, you don't exist."

She tilts her head back and shouts, "We found a clue!"

The man obeys. Good. He's learning. Or maybe he just doesn't want the police called on them right now - and to be frank, Siyeon muses, it would look bad for them, too. Lord knows what would happen, if they saw her leaning over like this, looking like hell on wheels and pressing a gun to a man's shoulder. 

It scares her, almost, how smoothly Yoobin is lying about their motives, about their mission. She reminds herself to demand answers once this is over. 

"Twenty minutes, give or take, right?" Yoobin asks. 

Siyeon wiggles the gun against the man's shoulder. He grits his teeth and nods. "Thereabouts," she calls over her shoulder. She turns back around studies the man's face, the way his jaw is set, the almost  _ casual _ look in his eyes. He's treating this like he's delivering a package or something. 

She wouldn't consider herself an angry person - normally, she's not. But right now, she feels very little besides rage. 

Yoobin hangs up. "Alright, I have some questions," she says, and she motions for Siyeon to hand her the gun back. Almost reluctantly, Siyeon passes it over. 

"I have very little to hide," the man says. There's a smile in his voice. Siyeon flexes her fingers. 

"What's your name?" she asks, leaning over the center console. "And how do you know Shiang?"

The man shrugs. "Song Chinmae," he says. "Du, he is… My partner in crime? My disciple?" He glances over at Siyeon. "Student? I'm not sure." 

"Your  _ student _ ," Yoobin echoes. Siyeon turns around and watches the other girl's eyebrows draw together. "Were you an officer at one point, then?"

Chinmae laughs. "Oh, no. I simply taught him about our god, you know." He hits the turn signal and merges onto the highway. "He came to Seoul lost and confused, and I helped him get back on his feet and find purpose in life. He's like a brother to me, at this point." 

Siyeon slides backward, her good hand seeking the knife, just in case. She can't trust whatever he's saying; she feels that in the bottom of her stomach. "Who is this god you speak of?" Yoobin asks. "Clearly, when you and I say the word, we mean two different deities."

"We do." He lifts one of his hands from the wheel, waves it delicately. "I don't know his real name, just that he needs my assistance - our assistance. He's weakened, you know, since he doesn't have believers, but he's promised me unquantifiable power once he returns to his full strength. My original plan had been to recruit seven people, but Shiang had other ideas." He sighs and returns his hand to the wheel. "He's a very impulsive young man, but he had a point. And our god seems to be enjoying the sacrifices - since the first, he's only asked for more." He flashes a grin over his shoulder. "How convenient, that there were seven of you, no?"

Yoobin swallows, loud enough for Siyeon to hear. Siyeon's breathing catches in her throat. Once again, the little voice in the back of her head is saying,  _ Trap, trap, trap, trap _ . She runs her thumb over the handle of the knife. She should have just killed him in the alley and run. 

"So, that's why you targeted Yoohyeon," Yoobin says, slowly and carefully, "and why you knew who we were. Did your  _ god _ tell you that we were going to be there?"

He nods. "He's been very keen on following this plan through."

"You said I wasn't  _ the pretty one _ ," Siyeon says. "And by that you meant Gahyeon. Were you the one that drugged her, then?"

Chinmae tilts his head, then nods. "Yes, I believe so. I wasn't counting on you being so close as to not leave her, but that was a mistake on my part. It led us to Handong, so it worked out in the end." 

Siyeon stares at Yoobin -  _ oh, my God,  _ she mouths, and Yoobin just nods. She looks down at the gun, at the knife, and wonders, briefly, if she is capable of ending a life. Her gaze flickers to the person in the driver's seat, then back to the knife. Yes. She very well could, if it was  _ his _ .

"What if we kill you now?" Yoobin asks. She, too, is staring at the gun in her hand. "And leave you to rot?"

He just laughs. "It's too late, my  _ dear _ . Your fate's been sealed." 

Yoobin lifts her chin. "I don't believe in destiny."

He says nothing. They drive on in silence.

After twenty minutes, Chinmae exits, and they drive off a dirt road seemingly into the middle of the woods. He puts the car in the park. "We have to walk the rest of the way," he says. 

Siyeon leans forward, squinting out the windshield. "Looks wide enough," she says, shrugging with her good shoulder. "We can keep moving."

Chinmae flashes her a glare. "I'd prefer if we didn't," he says. "The tires leave tracks."

"Good," Yoobin says. She takes a deep breath, pushes the gun barrel through the headrest, presses it against Chinmae's head. "Drive."

Siyeon slips backward into the seat again. Her leg is bouncing like crazy; her stomach turns with anxiety. Every second that passes feels like an eternity. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, but it just kind of makes it worse. 

Yoobin leans to the side. "Do you have a plan?" she hisses, barely audible.

Siyeon shrugs. "Slit his throat and push him out of the car?" she whispers back. "As a message?"

"You're talking like a gangster," Yoobin says, and it's the kind of sentence that sounds like a joke, but clearly isn't, judging from the lack of smile on her face. "That's really tempting."

"Better yet, make him kill himself." Siyeon taps her chin. "Then it'd be more difficult to trace it back to us if he ever gets discovered."

Yoobin presses a finger to her lips. "Let's… hold off killing, as long as we possibly can," she says. "Even if we want to, it'll just… It's probably not worth it."

Siyeon nods. "He'd probably savor dying for his cause or whatever."

"Exactly. He's completely insane." Yoobin's eyes light up as she gets an idea. She grabs Siyeon's hand. "I'll hold him hostage with the gun - you take the knife. It'll- Shit!"

At this point, her phone rings, making both girls jump. Yoobin lifts her hand and smacks it into Siyeon's nose by accident. "Sorry!" she hisses, fumbling to pull her phone out. "Yeah?"

"We're here," Chinmae says. Siyeon raises a hand to shush him. 

"Minji, we just made it to the place," Yoobin mutters. "It's gonna be a bit longer."

Siyeon rubs her stinging nose and hopes it doesn't start bleeding again. "I miscalculated, sorry."

Yoobin nods, waits for a response, then turns to Siyeon and asks, "Half an hour?" 

Siyeon just nods, rubbing her hand on her nose. "Sounds about right." She sniffs. "We'll be faster since we know where we're going."

Yoobin pulls the phone away from her ear with a confused look on her face. "That was… Odd." 

Chinmae shuts the car off. Siyeon tilts her head. "What?" she says, and her brain immediately provides her with images of the  _ worst _ , of Bora's body dangling in a closet, or a broken window and a bullet in Minji's head, or a fire in the dorms, wiping out even their neighbors.

"We need to move, and we need to move  _ fast _ ." Yoobin kicks her door open, jerks her head to tell Siyeon to get out. Chinmae just sits there and does absolutely nothing, even when Yoobin opens his door. "Alright, move."

Chinmae smiles placidly. "My work here is done, Yoobin. I don't think I need-"

"Whatever." Yoobin loops her arm around his and yanks him to his feet. She cocks the gun and presses it somewhere Siyeon can't see, thanks to the car being in the way. "Walk."

Siyeon takes a few steps forward, her sneakers slipping on the wet ground. She grips the handle of the knife tighter. She's holding it blade out close to her chest, as if that will protect her. Maybe it will. She pictures herself slashing at someone's chest, or parrying someone's blow. A shudder runs through her. She's never had to do this before. 

"This is unnecessary," Chinmae stammers, and his facade is starting to crack. He's just a scared man, like the rest of them. "Seriously, let me go-"

Yoobin says nothing. 

The knife catches some of the last few rays of the setting sun. It's a beautiful blade, like something you'd see on TV. 

They stand in front of a squat structure, a cabin made of dark wood planks and covered in a cloth. It looks old and unused, the kind of place that's slated for destruction sometime soon, whenever the government gets around to it. It's the perfect place for a hideout. 

Siyeon slides closer to Yoobin. "Call him," Yoobin says to Chinmae. 

Chinmae fidgets. "I mean, I can't say he's even there - and he might be asleep, he was incredibly injured."

"Fine, I'll shoot the window." Yoobin pulls the gun away from his head and levels it at one of the upper floors. The man yelps. 

"Du! Hey, come here- you'll never guess what I found!" he shouts. 

The trio stands there, waiting, in an uneasy silence. A light flickers in the upper floor, a window slides open, a head pops outside. "What are you  _ screaming  _ about?" a very disgruntled officer Shiang rasps. His voice is ragged. "Jesus fucking Christ, Chinmae-"

He stops when he notices the girls. "Oh," he says, and then he disappears from the window. 

"Dammit!" Yoobin hisses, lowering the gun. "I missed my chance." 

Siyeon nudges her side gently. "There'll be another-"

She's cut off by Chinmae's hand slamming into her stomach and knocking her off balance. She stumbles, gasping for breath, and watches him try to do the same to Yoobin, and fail. He steps forward. "No, no, there won't. Because you are going to die tonight." He grins, much like he did earlier. "Fools."

Yoobin staggers back, her hands wrapped around the gun. Her finger's on the trigger.  _ Shoot, damn you! _ Siyeon thinks, trying to regain her breath.  _ Shoot him and end this all.  _

"Fuck you," Yoobin mutters. She pulls the trigger.

The bullet hits Chinmae in the shoulder. He stumbles back, presses a hand to his wound, slides his head down. His face is seemingly fixed in that expression. "If this is how it must be," he says. 

He's staring at Yoobin, egging her on. He  _ wants _ her to shoot him, Siyeon realizes. "Wait- wait- wait-" she says, and she grabs Yoobin's shoulder. "How many bullets-?"

Yoobin shrugs and doesn't lift her gaze from Chinmae's Joker-esque smile. "Six?" she says. "And that's three used."

"Save them for Shiang," Siyeon says. She takes a deep breath, does her best to ignore the pain coming from the wound on her ribs again. Shit, the hit must have reopened it. "I think- I think I can do this." 

Yoobin says nothing, just gives a curt nod. Siyeon adjusts her grip on the knife, stares at Chinmae, swallows. It's now or never, do or die. 

She runs forward on shaking legs and slashes the man with a wild swing. The knife bites into flesh - blood blooms from his  _ face _ , oh, God, she missed. He hisses and presses a hand to the wound, which cuts across his cheek and eye. She swallows, steps forward, stabs again, this time paying more attention. The blade goes into his stomach, sticks straight out. He stumbles backward. She grabs for the knife again, just to have it. 

A gunshot splits the air. 

The bullet embeds itself in her stomach. It hurts like she's never felt pain before, burning and sharp. She screams, collapses to the ground. 

"You couldn't  _ possibly _ think you were the only ones with a gun," Shiang says. He's gloating. 

Siyeon gasps, her gaze searching for the speaker. He's standing on the porch of the cabin, one arm leaning on a silver crutch. The other holds a shiny gun. And then her vision blurs with tears and she can't see anymore.

"You-" Yoobin breathes. 

Siyeon starts to climb to her feet and realizes with horror that she's lost sight of the knife. She blinks her eyes clear and searches, desperately, for her weapon.

"Something wrong, Yoobin?" Shiang cocks the gun in his hands again. It's difficult to see his face in the light, but from his voice, he's grinning. "Wasn't what you were expecting?" 

Siyeon's legs buckle when she tries to stand, so she settles for crawling towards the prone figure that is Chinmae. Tears run down her face - pain, anger, sorrow, she can't tell what. Her fingers grope the ground, searching for the knife. "What did we do to you?" Yoobin says. She's yet to do anything. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Shiang says. Siyeon watches him lazily sweep both of them with the barrel. "She wasn't supposed to die, but she chose to. And now you  _ all _ have to. Such is the way of the gods." 

"You are a  _ coward _ ," Yoobin spits. "Hiding behind your religion." She cocks the gun. 

Siyeon breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe they'll get out of this alive. 

Her fingers brush the edge of the knife. She winces. She traces it to the handle and picks it back up again. Chinmae is still alive - his breathing, though labored, is loud, whistling. 

"No,  _ you _ are the cowards, for trying to run." 

Shiang fires as Siyeon picks the knife up again. Luckily, this shot misses - the bullet  _ cracks _ into a tree somewhere behind the girls. Yoobin responds with a shot of her own; this, too, misses. Shiang laughs and laughs. 

Chinmae stares at Siyeon with wide, pained eyes. "You can't do it," he says. "You can't kill me."

She thinks of her friends, of the two that are dead and the four that aren't, of the cold-blood running through the man on the porch. "Go to  _ hell _ ," She says. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and plunges the knife into his throat. 

He makes a noise something like a gargle, claws viciously at the blade. She leans back. Her hands shake, shake, shake. She watches him struggle. He will not survive. 

She, Lee Siyeon, is a killer.

She closes her eyes and feels a wave of nausea wash through her. "Chinmae!" Shiang shouts, but that doesn't break her out of this spell. She simply pushes herself backwards, her breath catching in her throat. 

And then there's another gunshot, and now it is Yoobin's turn to scream. Right between Siyeon's ribs. Her eyes fly open; she looks down at the wound, at the blood. There is so much blood. On her hands, on her shirt, on her legs. She no longer knows how much of it is hers. She isn't really sure she cares. 

Breathing is hard. 

"You can't- You can't do this!" Yoobin shouts. She comes closer to Siyeon, fires again. The bullet must hit home - Shiang curses. Yoobin crouches, throws her arm around Siyeon's shoulders. "Siyeon, talk to me, talk to me.

Siyeon shakes her head. "C-Can't," she slurs. "H-Hurts."

"Gunshots are the worst, yeah," Yoobin says. She's talking fast, in a way that Siyeon's never heard before. "It's- We'll get you out of here-" 

She tries to pull Siyeon upright. Siyeon gets halfway there, then slumps over again. Her head is spinning. Her heart plunges into her stomach as she realizes that she is  _ dying _ , that she is going to  _ die here _ , and it is  _ Shiang's fault _ . 

"He's going to be  _ so _ pleased," Shiang drawls. "Three in one night? What a treat."

_ Three _ . No, it can't be. It can't be three. That can't be right. 

One. One is enough. 

Siyeon fights her way out of Yoobin's grip and lets herself lie in the dirt. "Y-Y-You need to run," she says, her voice labored. "L-Let m-me go. Save the- the others." 

Yoobin stares at her. "Siyeon, I'm so sorry," she says. "Oh, God." 

Someone cocks a gun. Siyeon has no idea who it is. "Don't let this be in vain," Siyeon whispers. 

Yoobin nods, turns, and runs, back to the car, back to the others, as Siyeon's vision starts to fade to black. The last thing she hears is glass  _ shattering _ as a bullet hits it. 

_ Please, God, say she made it _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i should write some fluff after this


	14. freeze, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so the third act begins
> 
> also ao3 finally is accepting my formatting of choice which makes my life a Lot easier :) yay ao3 (i say this and next chapter it's going to fuck itself over again)

Minji pulls Gahyeon out of the bathroom and calls the police as soon as she realizes what happened, but not soon enough. The image is burned in her mind - all that blood, and the knife, and the look on Bora’s dead face - and she knows she’s too late to change anything but god, does it hurt. 

Gahyeon trips, stumbles, rocks back into the wall. “She-She was fine,” she babbles. Her voice is edged with panic. “She was- She-”

“I know,” Minji says. She wraps her arms around Gahyeon’s shoulders in a tight squeeze. “Dad’s on his way.”

Gahyeon whimpers into Minji’s shoulder. “What do we do, what do we do, what do we do?” 

She peels away and scrubs a hand across her face. Minji sighs. “I don’t know,” she says. “That’s why I called Dad. He’ll help us.” 

Gahyeon shakes her head. “Yeah, that worked so well the last time,” she mumbles. She rubs her arms. “Should we c-call Siyeon? Let her know that-”

“That we failed?” Minji steps away, pressing her hands to her face. “M-Maybe we should wait, till they’re home- Oh,  _ dammit! _ ” Her phone rings from her pocket - Yoobin. “Stay calm, we can- we can do this.”

“You’re never gonna guess what happened,” Yoobin is saying. Her voice is impossible to pick apart - flat, tired, adrenaline fueled? Whatever she’s talking about can’t be good. 

Minji presses the phone to her ears. “Are you alright?” she asks, though she feels like she knows the answer already. 

Yoobin sighs. “No," she says. "Siyeon… Isn't coming home with me."

Minji squeaks. " _ What _ ?" 

"It's a really long story. I-I'll explain when I get home." The younger girl clicks something in the car. "I'm so sorry, Minji. Tell Bora, so she can-"

" _ Actually, _ " Minji says. She reaches her hand towards Gahyeon, laces their fingers together. "Bora's gone, too. It's just us."

Yoobin doesn't talk - the line goes dead silent. "I was afraid of that," she says eventually, after a long enough pause that it startles Minji. 

"I called my dad," Minji says. "He's going to be here soon. We can talk later."

Yoobin huffs. "Yes, you're right," she says. "Be there in half an hour."

She hangs up, and Minji just sighs. She's too stressed to feel anything, too numb. She slips her phone in her pocket again. "Yoobin's coming home soon?" Gahyeon asks, squeezing Minji's fingers. 

Minji nods. "This isn't right," she says. "It shouldn't be just the three of us. This isn't fair."

Gahyeon steps forward and buries her face in Minji's shoulder. "It's not," she says. Her voice is muffled by her shirt. "It's not good."

Sort of as one, they walk their way back down the common area and sit down on the couch to await the arrival of the police. 

Yoobin walks in faster than anticipated. In her hand is  _ definitely _ the pistol. Her hands and face are smeared with blood, but she herself appears unharmed. "I'm putting this in Bora's room," she announces. "Keeps it away from me."

Minji pushes away from Gahyeon, her eyes wide. "Are you serious? You can't do that," she says. She stumbles to her feet. "Can't you just keep this in the car-"

"The car has a hole blown in the windshield," Yoobin says. "From a different gun. Anything to throw them off of my trail is good enough for me." She wipes her cheek, which doesn't do anything to clean it. "I can't risk it. Not when it might put you in danger."

Minji reaches for her hand. "What are you thinking? We can't do anything stupid. It's gotten four of us-"

"Have you ever dealt with this before?" Yoobin says, with sudden intensity. She swats Minji away. 

Minji recoils, curling into herself. "Are you saying you have?" she asks. 

Yoobin sighs and runs a hand through her hair. "Well, not quite. But we've come  _ close _ ." She shoves the gun into her pocket. "Minji, listen to me."

"But- But-" Minji stammers. "We've got a plan, when Dad gets here-"

Yoobin grabs Minji's shoulders. "The cops got Yoohyeon  _ killed _ , Minji. And he's one of them. And he's also a fucking  _ lunatic _ ." She squeezes. "We can't trust the system when he won't work within the system." Sighs. "I think I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

Minji hesitates, searching Yoobin's gaze for some trace of humor, or some sign that this is a cruel joke, but there is nothing there but fear - genuine, bloodcurdling fear, the kind that sends a chill up Minji's spine. She thinks of Bora and their argument, of Siyeon and the phone call. "But you were with Siyeon," she says, more thinking out loud than anything else. 

"I know." Yoobin sighs. "But now I know more, about who's going after us and why." She slides her hands down Minji's arms and gives her hand a squeeze. "He claims to have God on his side. He'd sooner commit suicide by cop then stop."

"What if we ran?" Gahyeon pipes up from the couch. Both girls turn to look at her; she's folded herself into a ball and is picking at her socks. "Moved out of Seoul for a bit? Or even the country?" 

Minji nods, snapping her fingers. "Yes! We could run away- I have family, down in the countryside, surely they wouldn't mind me staying-"

Yoobin lifts her hand. "Hang on. We can discuss this later." She backs down the hallway, turns on her heel, jogs the rest of the way. "Your dad's gonna be here soon, right? Gotta remove the evidence!"

Just as she vanishes down the hallway, there's a knock on the door, followed by Minji's father's quiet voice, "Hello? Can I come in?" 

Minji breathes out, pulls her hair back, and calls back, "Yup!" She sits down on the couch next to Gahyeon, who nestles her head in Minji's shoulder. Her father pushes the door open. "Bora's in the bathroom," she says. "We didn't touch her."

Her father says something in a walkie-talkie. "Alright. I hate to do this, but it appears the four of you have to come with us." He motions for them to stand up. "Where are your friends?"

Minji pushes herself upright, exchanges a glance with Gahyeon. "Yoobin, she's- down there, cleaning up and I don't know where Siyeon is," she says. 

"Is something wrong?" Gahyeon asks. She stands, too. 

Her father sighs. "I don't believe so," he says, "but as a precaution, the four of you will be taken into police custody. While Bora's death was likely none of your faults, protocol dictates that I have to do this. There'll be more cars coming soon." 

Minji feels her heart drop into her stomach. "You think we killed her?" she asks, clapping a hand over her mouth. 

"We wouldn't dream of it," Gahyeon whimpers. 

He holds up a hand. "I know. It's just a precaution." He beckons for them to follow him. 

Minji and Gahyeon exchange another look. "Am I allowed to get Yoobin?" Minji asks. 

He shakes his head. Outside, something clatters. Minji swallows and steps forward. Her father loops his arm around hers and leads her outside, down the steps, to the police car. 

What passes next is the most stressful four hours of her life; officers, detectives, psychologists come in and out of the holding cell she finds herself sat down in, separated from her friends, to question her over and over again, until she's at her limit. Eventually, she just shuts down and refuses to talk. If she opens her mouth again, she'll cry. She might cry either way. Doesn't matter. 

She didn't kill anyone - she knows who did. This is pointless. It's probably just for the sake of security, to make sure she doesn't go back on her story or whatever, but it's torture. It's psychological warfare. At least she's not handcuffed. She buries her face in her arms on the table and takes a deep breath to try and calm herself down. 

The door squeaks open. She digs her fingers into her arms and doesn't lift her head. "Oh, Minji," her father says. He sounds gentle, almost sad, compared to the harsh men she's had to deal with. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize they'd do that."

"Do what?" she asks, only half lifting her gaze to him. Her head pounds. "Interrogate me?"

He nods and takes a seat across from her. "They did it to all of you - they're still talking to Yoobin." He reaches for her hand, but she just glares at him. "But the good news is, we have what we need from you and Miss Gahyeon. You're free to go."

She blinks. "What about Yoobin?" 

He pauses. "Well… She's got some information about Shiang that could prove useful. It's just that we don't know how she got the information, and we have our questions for her-"

"She didn't do anything wrong."

"Having a weapon is a crime, Minji. Even if it was for self defense, she is still in the wrong there. She'll have to face punishment for that, if we find that she did have a gun, like our current investigation suggests."

Minji stares at him; his eyes are cold, unflinching. There's a chance Yoobin could go to jail. Something about the whole thing feels wrong, like they're focusing their energy on the wrong thing. Because they are. Because she's an easier target then Shiang? Because of something Yoobin's never told her? 

"She didn't do anything wrong," she says, her voice level. Her heartbeat rushes in her ears. "I haven't- She wouldn't do that." She digs her fingernails into the flesh of her arms to keep her hands from shaking. Two months ago, she wouldn't have done any of this. Hell, a week ago, she would have taken the opportunity to rat Yoobin out, if only to steer her back on the right track, away from the line she's coming dangerously close to crossing (for her claims of leaving her past behind, Yoobin does an excellent job of clinging to it). 

But things are different now. And they have to stick together. 

Even if this means lying. 

"I have never seen any evidence of a weapon in the dorm, or the car, or on her, or anything," she says. She doesn't blink, barely breathes. Hopes it's convincing. 

Her father quirks his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" he says. He loses the familial familiarity he had a moment before. "People can hide things if they don't want people to know."

She shakes her head. "We've lived together for two years at this point," she says. "Something would have come up." She wonders if he can hear her heartbeat. 

"You're not just saying this to protect her, right?" He leans forward. 

"Absolutely not," she lies. This conversation has gone on longer than she wanted it to. She pushes herself upright. "This is just me being honest."

Her father stares at her, scrutinizing her, studying her. She stares back. After a long pause, he looks away. "Alright," he says. "I trust you, but only because you're my daughter. This is quite suspicious, Minji." He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. "Someone will come get you in a few minutes, to escort you to the front. I've arranged for the- three of you-" the way he paused suggests that he had only planned for two- "to spend at least the next few days at a hotel, while we investigate the dorm room. You'll be home soon." He sighs, lifts his hat off his head, scrubs at his hair. "I promise you."

And then he disappears into the hall, leaving Minji once again alone. The room feels cold all of a sudden, or maybe it's just her. She stares at the empty door for a moment, then falls back into her seat, buries the heels of her hands in her eyes.  _ What am I doing?  _ she thinks. Quite possibly, that is the stupidest thing she's ever done. Lying to the police. If her father finds out,  _ she'll _ go to jail. 

But she won't. Something tells her that. There's a little voice in the back of her head that's whimpering,  _ You won't have time _ , and it sounds a little bit like  _ Handong _ . Minji pushes it out of her head and ignores it.

Twenty minutes, or maybe thirty, pass before another police officer comes in and motions for her to follow him. She doesn't recognize him; he's not one of the ones that's been talking to her. "Kim Minji?" he asks, looking her up and down as she stands. 

"That would be me," she says. 

The officer nods. "Right, come with me," he says, and he vanishes into the hallway. She watches him go for a moment before following him on shaky legs. Her stomach hurts; her mouth is dry. She's been here for way too long and the last thing she ate was Bora's questionable dinner. Her joints are screaming for her to lie down. At least hotel beds are comfortable. 

The officer walks her down the gray hallways of the police station and checks her out at the front. She receives her wallet and her keys - none of her change is in there, but she'll worry about that later - and a warm pat on the back. The clock on the wall reads 12:15 AM. She wishes she could have fallen asleep two hours ago, but she's still got a bit of time to go. 

Gahyeon is already sitting in the front when she finally gets to sit down. The younger girl jumps to her feet, despite the tired, hollow look in her eyes. "Oh, thank  _ God _ ," she says. She throws her arms around Minji. "I thought you were never gonna come back."

"Honestly, me too," Minji says. She tries to hug back, but she's too damn tired. "When Yoobin comes out, we're going to a hotel." 

Gahyeon nods against Minji's shoulder. "Yeah, I heard. They better pay for room service, I'm fucking starving." Her fingers dig into the back of Minji's shirt. There's a lot more that she wants to say, clearly, but she's not doing so. Perhaps later, perhaps never. Minji doesn't want to push. 

Yoobin comes out about ten minutes later. She looks as bad as Minji feels - her eyes are ringed with black circles. "Finally," she says. Gahyeon unhooks herself from Minji and darts over; Yoobin collapses into her arms. "I never want to talk to a police officer again."

"Me either," Gahyeon mumbles. "I kinda just want to sleep."

Minji leans back, her eyes trained on the door. "Soon," she says. She watches the clouded glass for a silhouette or something to suggest an approaching escort. "Please, God, soon. If I spend ten more minutes here I'm going to lose my mind."

"Going to?" Yoobin says, and she laughs - the kind of exhausted laugh that only comes from a person slowly going numb. 

Gahyeon does the same. "I left my mind back at the dorms."

The door to the back opens, and Minji's father steps out. "Alright, girls," he says, and he rubs his hands together. "Let's get you to your lodgings for the night. There should be someone checking on you tomorrow and every day until you can return home - just to keep you safe." He crosses the room and puts his hand on the front door. "I'll leave you a list of numbers you can talk to if any of you feel unsafe or scared. You've been under a lot of stress-" he looks directly at Minji for that one- "and it's understandable if you feel that way." He pulls the door open and steps outside. 

Yoobin sighs. "Yeah, that's a word for it," she says.

"I wish we could get clothes," Gahyeon says, tugging at the hoodie she's been wearing for about eighteen hours at this point. 

Minji makes a noise of agreement and makes a move to follow her father, but she's stopped by someone grabbing one of her hands. She turns around to find Yoobin holding both her and Gahyeon like a vice. "When we get to the hotel room, I have some things to tell you," she hisses. "A lot of things, actually. And you're not going to like all of them." She lets go, taps both of them on the shoulder, and passes through them to head out. 

Minji takes a deep breath and follows her. "Oh, man," she says, more to herself than Gahyeon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> genuinely didn't think i'd get this far in this story. this also wasn't supposed to be this long. thank you to everyone sticking with this little thriller fanfic - i'm impressed it's gotten any attention. sure, it's not like a big fic but that doesn't matter. all 53 of those kudos means so much to me. fifty people is like, two or three classrooms of people. that's a lot. so thank you all. 
> 
> you get two updates this week since i missed last week :"3 i was busy


	15. dancing with the devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said this was inspired by piri 
> 
> also, briefly, we are going back in time

Everything hurts. Physically, emotionally, spiritually, everything hurts. She’s been shaking since he left the first time. Thankfully, she’s stopped feeling after the knife in her eye. Some merciful god out there decided to pull the plug. 

Except now she’s feeling again, and it hurts, it hurts so much. She can feel blood drip-drip-dripping down her face, thicker than tears,  _ warmer _ than tears. She touches her hands to her face to wipe it away. 

It’s dry. 

She opens her eyes and looks down at her hands, which stand out pale against the nothingness surrounding her. There is no blood, no bruises, no sign of trauma. 

_ What am I so worried about? _ she thinks, and her voice echoes around her, expands into the space.

Her feet are on solid ground, yet she looks down and sees nothing but a flowing white gown around her legs. There is nothing above her, either. There is no color - no black or white or yellow or green or  _ red _ , mercifully there is no red. She stretches her arms to either side of her and encounters nothing, no walls that might prevent her from moving. There is nothing here but her. 

_ Am I dead?  _ she thinks. Her own voice - or what might be her voice, she can’t tell at this point - ripples through the space. She gets no response except her own words reflecting back at her. 

She pulls her hands in around her, takes a step backward, another, another, another. She’s trying to run, but from what? There is nothing to scare her. Nothing that might want to hurt her. Except, of course, that’s the problem. There is nothing. 

_ Am I in hell? _ she thinks, desperately searching the void for a sign of life. 

“Not quite,” answers her own voice. “But you’re certainly dead, Miss Handong.”

The sound fills the space. 

Handong. That’s her name. 

“It’s a pity,” continues the Handong that’s not Handong. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Actual Handong - she thinks she’s actually Handong at least - whips her head around, searching for the source of the voice -  _ her  _ voice. But there’s nothing. She swallows. Her heart  _ should _ be pounding now; there’s nothing there. 

“Never trust men, dear,” hums her own voice. “They’ll always lie.” Hand on her chin, twisting her forward, or maybe forward, tilting her head up. “But you’d already figured that part out, hadn’t you, Miss Handong?”

Actual Handong wriggles, tries to squirm free from the hand holding her, but there’s no hand there. She expects to hear her blood rushing through her ears, feel her hands shaking with adrenaline. Instead, she just stands there. She isn’t even breathing. 

“What are you so scared of? I can’t do anything anymore. The worst part’s over with.” Invisible hand lets go. “Unless you think being trapped here for all of eternity is worse than death itself.” Her own voice titters in her ears. “It appears there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

_ Huge misunderstanding _ , Handong thinks. Is she thinking it? Does she even think anymore? 

“Yes.” The voice ripples and flows, like water, like honey, like blood.

_ Who am I talking to?  _ She spins around, straining her eyes to see something,  _ anything _ , in the endless void.  _ Are you God?  _

What might be a memory flickers across her vision: a man, eyes wide with madness, turning to her and saying,  _ Have you ever talked to God, Handong?  _

_ Are you the God he was referring to? _

She gets no response for a while - then, laughter, mocking laughter. Her own voice cackles back at her. “Oh, he  _ cracks me up _ ,” sings “God”. “He’s completely off his rocker, isn’t he? Such a shame, really. I thought I had finally found a good one, but it appears I was wrong.” The voice just sighs. “I’m not God, dear. Not yet, at least. Your friend, he was  _ supposed _ to be aiding me, but then he went and bungled that with you.” What feels like a finger jabs into her shoulder. “Men.” Sigh. “Always cutting corners.”

Handong flinches away from the touch.  _ Aiding you. Who are you? Are you the devil?  _

The voice laughs again. “Wrong again. I’m nothing, yet, and it seems that I’ll continue to be nothing.” It sounds like it’s pouting. “And you managed to get yourself stuck here, with me. Isn’t this lovely?”

_ Then who are you?  _

“A friend. My name is unimportant.” Something brushes her cheek, like a finger, but too long. “I’m also all you have left right now, Miss Handong.”

She opens her mouth, as if to let out a small cry, but nothing comes out. There’s more  _ things _ running along her face now; then, something covers her eyes, and she can no longer see herself. “Don’t act so shocked. You were sacrificed. Surely you’re aware of  _ that _ .” It pulls away. “Disrupting fate, sending you away from your proper ending, depositing you here. Come, you’re a smart girl.”

Handong opens her eyes again, and this time there is something else in the nothingness. This time, she stares face to face with  _ herself _ , except she’s just a bit too tall, her shoulders are just a bit too wide, her smile just a bit too toothy. Not-Handong shimmers, too, in and out of existence, as if it takes a great effort to maintain this form. She lifts a hand and waves with fingers that stretch and stretch and stretch. She tilts her head at an 87 degree angle. “Perhaps,” she says, “this was a good thing.”

_ What the hell are you?  _ Actual-Handong takes a step back.  _ What the hell are you doing?  _

The thing in front of her grabs her hand and pulls her towards itself. “You were struggling, so I figured I’d… coagulate, I suppose, to make things easier for you.” It leans down. It’s gotten taller. “Humans like to see what they’re talking to. You _ were  _ human, no?” 

Its teeth are pointy. Handong nods rapidly.  _ Last time I checked.  _

“Well, he got part of it right.” It slinks back, shrinks to a regular form, lets go of Handong’s wrist. “Human. Forgot the rest of it. Oh, well.” Its smile falls; Handong gets the distinct feeling that she’s being studied. She curls her hands into her chest. 

_ I am dead _ , she finds herself thinking again.  _ Oh, Christ, I am dead.  _

It sighs. “You’ll get over this eventually,” it says. An idea lights up its eyes - for a second, it has too many. “Perhaps I can help with that?” It slinks around her, both cat-like and not at the same time. “Or at least, I can ease the  _ pain _ .” It disappears behind her back. 

_ Help me? Ease the pain?  _ Handong tilts her head to look at it, but it comes up around the other side, one of its hands pressing her shoulder to her side, the other two gesturing into space. 

“What do you miss the most right now? Friends, family, a lover or two, money? Revenge?” It spins around in front of her. It still looks like her. “There must be  _ something _ .”

She takes a step back, her shoulders hiking to her ears.  _ Everything?  _ she thinks.  _ Breathing?  _

It purses its lips, teeth seeming to slip through its skin. “Come, I can’t do everything, yet.” It tilts its head. “In time, perhaps.” Taps her forehead with enough force to push her backwards. “Think.”

Handong feels her feet go out from under her. The next thing she knows, she is falling, falling, falling. She doesn’t hit the ground. There is no ground to hit. She shuts her eyes. 

“There must be  _ something _ ,” it repeats, both far too close and impossibly far away from her ears.

Images pass behind her eyelids: her family, eating food in a restaurant; a walk in the woods at dusk, her best friend by her side; a bike ride through Seoul, the wind in her hair; a late night conversation with her roommate, sharing a giant bucket of cheese puffs. Her roommate giggles and throws one of the puffs at her. Her roommate’s name is Gahyeon.

That name is on her lips when she stops falling abruptly. 

“Oh?” it coos. One arm is looped under Handong’s back, the other holds her wrist. It leans over her, as if it's her partner in a tango. “This… Gahyeon?” 

She shakes her head.  _ No, not just Gahyeon. Bora and Siyeon and Minji and Yoohyeon and Yoobin too. All of them. All of my friends. I never got to say good-bye.  _ She leans upwards.  _ I was only supposed to be gone for two weeks.  _

It grins. “Your friends,” it says. “Yes, I believe I can do that.” It lets go of Handong. “In exchange, however, you have to do something for me.” 

_ This feels like a trap.  _

“What can I do that hasn’t already been done to you? You’re already dead.” It crosses its arms, its head bobbing. “I can’t banish you to hell, I can’t blink you out of existence.” 

_ What do you want me to do?  _ Handong tries desperately to read it, but its face is rippling and glitching. 

It sighs. “To be honest, your soul is already mine- that’s why you’re here. If you promise to stay, and give me help when I need it, I can return you to your friends.” It sticks out one of its four hands to shake. “I won’t ask for much, I can swear that to you.” It smiles. “Do we have a deal?”

Handong narrows her eyes.  _ What will you want me to do?  _

“Nothing out of the ordinary. No  _ murder _ . I won’t need that.” It sprouts two more arms and wiggles its outstretched hand. “Do we have a deal, Miss Handong?” 

She swallows, staring at the thing in front of her. Alarm bells ring-ring-ring throughout her entire body. She shouldn’t.

Except she’ll be stuck here for eternity otherwise. 

She looks it right in its fluctuating number of eyes and shakes its hand with a firm, business-man like grip. “Deal,” she says. It’s the first word she’s actually managed to speak. 

" Pleasure doing business with you,” it says. And then it disappears. 

It doesn’t come back for some time, though Handong isn’t sure how much. She tries to count the passing of time, but every time she does, she loses track before she even hits fifty. She’s not even sure if time is real. Is it? Is she? Is any of this? 

Clearly, something is, or else she wouldn’t be feeling right now, right? 

Except, she’s dead. 

S he is definitely dead. 

“Your friends,” it says, this time without forming - Handong finds herself forever grateful for that. “They seem to be handling you poorly.” 

_ I wouldn’t blame them _ , she thinks. 

“Would you like to see?” Something hand-like taps her shoulder. “I can show you.”

_ How? _ Handong flinches, like she always does when it touches her.  _ You can do that? _

It laughs. “Not all the time, dear. Or else I would have offered by now.” 

A flash of white light cuts through the nothingness. She shields her eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. A whimper escapes the back of her throat. It’s the common room. It’s the common room in the dorm, and there, sitting in a circle of chairs - Yoobin, then Siyeon and Bora on the other side, and then there’s Yoohyeon and Gahyeon and Minji on the couch, and they are all staring at her. “Hey,” she squeaks, and she reaches out her hand towards the vision. Her fingers seem to phase away. 

It sighs. “They can’t see  _ you _ , Miss Handong. They can’t  _ hear _ you, either.” Its long fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her hand back towards her body. “It is not you who is seeing right now.”

_ Then… What is? You?  _ Handong wants to cry. They’re right there. They’re so close. She  _ could _ touch them, except she can’t.

" He might be a complete wackjob, but he’s sure helpful for  _ you _ ,” it says. “It’s awfully convenient of him to be a police officer, don’t you think?” 

There’s a chill starting at the bottom of her spine.  _ Oh. Yes. Him.  _ She watches through his eyes while he swings his gaze from person to person.  _ How is this happening? _

It runs a hand down her shoulder. “His soul’s mine, you forget. He’s basically a puppet at this point.” The hand stops at her elbow. “Something wrong?”

“Wednesday?” Yoohyeon is saying. 

_ A puppet _ . Handong goes rigid. 

“Exactly. He does what I ask and nothing more. He’s yet to run his course.” It pats her head, like she’s a pet. “You’ll find that he’s  _ very _ useful, dear.”

_ He’s seeing Yoohyeon on Wednesday _ . 

“Indeed he is.”

_ Alone. _

“Right again.”

Handong steps away from where she thinks the hands are coming from, even though it’s pointless; they’ll find her anyway.  _ Hang on. Is this some kind of exchange? Her body for mine? We didn’t agree to that.  _

Hands, hands everywhere - on her cheek, on her chin, in her hair. “You’ll find out. Relax. I promise you will see your friends again.”

The vision snaps back to nothingness, leaving her completely alone.  _ And… How will that happen?  _

I t simply laughs. Handong lunges, trying desperately to grab one of the hands that feel so goddamn real, but there’s nothing there, nothing; they slip from her grip, and she only stumbles.  _ What does that fucking mean? I don’t want more people to die!  _

“You will get what you want,” it says. Now the hands are behind her, tangling in her hair and holding her by the back of her gown. “I  _ promise _ .”

She twists her head around and finds herself once again looking into her own face, looking into her own eyes, and her own smile, and then it shimmers and suddenly it is all teeth and eyes and hair flowing in a breeze that isn’t there-

The hands release her. 

She falls. 

By the time she hits the ground, it’s been so long that she's forgotten what it feels like to stand on something solid. She sits there, in a heap of white gown and blonde hair, until there’s this new thought that ripples out through the darkness. 

_ Stop _ , they think, and their voice is familiar.

Handong lifts her head and sweeps her hair out of her face. Where has she heard them before?

_ Please, stop.  _

She whips her head around, a name bubbling to her lips.  _ Yoohyeon?  _ she thinks, scrambling to her feet.  _ Yoohyeon! Oh, God, no! _

She spins around and comes face to face with a horrible, bloody mess - scraped legs and arms, not to mention a gory stump where the head is supposed to be. Her hands fly to her mouth.  _ What happened to you?  _ she thinks. 

Slowly, almost as if Jell-O being poured into a mold, layer by layer, Yoohyeon’s head reforms, bottom up.  _ Handong? Is that you?  _ she is thinking, and then her eyes form, and her mouth drops open, and she screams.  _ Handong! Handong, Handong, holy  _ shit _ , I thought you were dead!  _

She runs forward and wraps the other girl in a hug; Handong sinks into it.  _ Christ, it’s so nice to feel limbs that are real.  _

_ Where are we?  _ Yoohyeon thinks, rocking back and forth.  _ Last thing I remember, I was...   
_

She freezes, and steps back, and pulls away. Handong tries to smile.  _ I don’t know myself,  _ she thinks.  _ I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The last thing I felt was… And then I was here.  _

Yoohyeon’s eyes widen.  _ Oh, no. You’re dead. I’m dead. We’re both dead.  _ She touches her hand to her own face.  _ Is this hell?  _

_ It says it’s not, but I’m not entirely unconvinced.  _

_ What says its not?  _ Yoohyeon tilts her head.

“Oh, that was unexpected,” it says, announcing its presence with a booming voice that makes Yoohyeon flinch. “I was worried, that the car wouldn’t send you here.” 

_ What the fuck?  _

Handong holds her hand out to the younger girl, who gladly accepts it. She wraps her other arm around the girl’s shoulders.  _ It _ , she thinks. 

It laughs, circling around and around the two of them. “Handong, this might be your doing. I’m proud of you.” Its voice stops somewhere in front of them. This time, when it chooses to form, it’s taller than the both of them, and its features swirl and glitch between both of their faces. “Greetings, Kim Yoohyeon.” 

_ You’re definitely not God _ , Yoohyeon says. She pushes into Handong.  _ You’re  _ definitely not _ God.  _

“You’re a smart one. I like that.” It grins. The edges of it spill off its face. “Correct. I’m not God, yet.” It sidles over and touches Handong’s cheek with one of its many hands. “But with the help of your friend here, I may yet become one.” 

_ Hang on _ . Handong tries to arch her head away, but its fingers are stuck like glue.  _ I didn’t agree to that.  _

It laughs. “Oh, but you said you’d help me with whatever I ask, didn’t you?” it coos. “In exchange for your friends?”

_ What did you do? _ Yoohyeon asks. She wriggles free from Handong’s arm and stares at her.  _ Did you make a deal with the Devil? _

Handong shakes her head. “ _ A _ devil,” it says. “I’m nowhere near so important yet.” 

_ You never told me that! _ Handong grabs its wrist and peels its fingers off of her face.  _ You never told me that once! _

“I didn’t think I had to. You seemed intelligent enough.” Its five eyes glitter, and it shoves her to the ground. She collapses in a pile. “I wasn’t expecting your desperation to cloud you so thoroughly.” It sighs. “Humans. Always so emotional.”

_ Handong _ , Yoohyeon thinks, and she puts her hand on Handong’s shoulder; at least, Handong  _ hopes _ it's her putting her hand on her shoulder.  _ Oh, God, Handong.  _

_ God can’t help us anymore.  _

“God never could.”

Handong lifts her head and stares at the  _ monster _ still standing away from her.  _ You told me I’d get what I want. And I don’t want more people to die.  _

It shakes its head. “Too bad, dear. You forgot that part of the original agreement.  _ That _ is on you.”

_ Can  _ I _ do something?  _ Yoohyeon thinks, pushing herself back to her feet. She juts her chin out.  _ Can I make my own deal? _

_ Yoohyeon, don’t- _

She holds her hand up and smiles at Handong. “What are you thinking of?” it asks. 

Yoohyeon shrugs.  _ You can have my soul, in exchange for our lives. Then, you get my soul  _ and _ hers and whoever else you have, and we can fulfill both agreements. Right? _

Handong curls her hands into fists. 

It doesn’t answer for a moment, just thinks, and then it starts to laugh. It laughs so loud and so hard that its face splits in two. “Oh, if only it were that  _ easy _ !” it sings, once it has calmed down. “Unfortunately, I can’t take on any more before I fulfill this one. Simply the nature of the deal.” It approaches Yoohyeon and lifts her chin higher up. “Keep that in mind, child, for the next time.” 

And it vanishes, and Handong lets out a strangled sob.  _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry _ , she thinks over and over again. 

Yoohyeon drops down next to her, cross legged.  _ I… Well, I can’t say it’s okay, because it’s clearly not.  _ Handong crawls over and puts her head in her lap.  _ But! We’ll get out of this somehow.  _ Yoohyeon puts her hand on Handong’s hair.  _ We have to. There’s no way we can’t stay stuck like this… Forever. _

Handong sniffs.  _ You think so?  _

_ I know so. Besides, there’s two of us now. Two heads is always better than one, right?  _

Handong wishes she could have Yoohyeon’s optimism.  _ Yeah. Right.  _

She hides her face in her hands and sobs. 

Things change faster this time; at least, it feels like they do. Maybe it's just the presence of a friend. Or maybe things are speeding up. Handong doesn't know anymore which one she'd prefer. On the one hand, this  _ needs _ to stop, this needs to be  _ over with _ already. On the other, she hates that it means more people would die. She'd rather stop existing entirely at this point. But  _ it _ won't let her change anything at this point. Stupid devils and their contracts. Stupid Handong for believing something too good to be true. 

Yoohyeon isn't adjusting to this very well. The younger girl paces and paces and paces, searching for a way out or  _ something _ . She has her arms out, feeling for a wall. At one point, she walks off in one direction and reappears on the other side, like she is Pac-Man and this is the maze. But she doesn't give up. She keeps walking. Handong, meanwhile, has sat down and refuses to get up. 

_ C'mon _ , Yoohyeon says after some time. She squats next to her and holds her hand out.  _ You can't have given up already.  _

Handong smiles wanly.  _ Clearly, you don't know me at all. This is my fault. I can't fix it. Nothing to do but wait. _

Yoohyeon sighs, folds her arms.  _ You're kidding. There's always a way out. That's what all the stories say.  _

_ Yeah, well, this isn't a story.  _ Handong curls her knees up into a ball.  _ Who's the hero? Because it sure as hell wasn't me, and it's not you. _

The younger girl tilts her head and drops next to her.  _ Minji, maybe? She'd be cut out to be a hero.  _ She leans her head on Handong's shoulder. 

Handong nudges her side.  _ You're just saying that because you're in love with her.  _

_ Shut up. I am not. _

_ Oh? Really? You're going to- _

_ Handong? Is that you?  _ says a new voice. A new familiar voice. Handong and Yoohyeon jump to their feet in unison.  _ Wh- Where am I? _

_ Bora! _ Yoohyeon says, and she claps her hand over her mouth.  _ How did- What are you doing here? _

Handong whips her head around, searching the void for the presence of her friend. There, slumped as if sitting, is the older girl. Blood trickles down her hands, from her  _ wrist _ \- Handong's eyes widen as she watches it. It evaporates into pink mist and leaves her skin smooth and unmarred. Bora sits up and stares at the two of them.  _ Yoohyeon, too, huh? Oh, no.  _

Yoohyeon runs towards her and drops to her knees.  _ It- It's good to see you again, sort of. I guess. I missed you. This isn't good.  _

_ Please tell me you didn't kill yourself _ , Handong thinks, approaching more cautiously. 

Bora wraps an arm around Yoohyeon's shoulder; a sad smile spreads on her face.  _ Right now, I don't remember why I did it. Guilt? Anger? Fear? I don't know. I'm sorry, guys. I failed everyone.  _ She tenses up while Yoohyeon squeezes.  _ I didn't expect to end up here. Where is here? _

Handong pulls Yoohyeon off and motions her hand out for Bora.  _ Purgatory _ , she thinks.  _ At least, I'm pretty sure. It says it's not hell, but it sure feels like it.  _

_ A devil's domain, _ Yoohyeon says.  _ So, maybe  _ a _ hell _ . 

"This is very interesting," it says. It's voice is now all of theirs, a grating blend that scratches at Handong's ears and stabs at her soul. "It appears we may be joined by  _ three _ tonight. Perhaps this will be over sooner than I thought." Fingers wrap around Handong's wrist and tug her away from her friends. "Would you like to watch?"

_ Watch what?  _ Yoohyeon asks. 

"I'm afraid I can't show you, my dear." It sounds almost apologetic. "See, your soul isn't  _ mine _ , per se. And neither is yours, Kim Bora. You're only here because of-" it grabs Handong by the chin and twists her around; a different finger pokes into her cheek, a different hand tangles in her hair- " _ this _ one's deal with me. If you want to blame anyone, blame her." Handong flinches and tries to squirm away, but she's held fast. "As such, I can't touch you, can't show you what she sees. Perhaps that will change - but that is up to you."

Bora presses her hands to her temples, her eyes widening with horror.  _ Handong, you made a deal with the fucking devil.  _

A  _ devil,  _ Yoohyeon corrects. The  _ devil wouldn't need to do this, I don't think.  _

"You're a smart girl, Yoohyeon." It laughs. "We could be excellent partners, but that is for later. Shiang still has his contract to fulfill, after all." It spins Handong around so she's facing another white void. "Speaking of which, things are getting  _ very _ interesting."

_ Handong, you- _ Bora sounds like she's struggling to grasp this.  _ You seriously-  _

_ Calm down, Bora, _ Yoohyeon says. 

_ In my defense _ \- Handong tries to lift her hand, but now that is pinned to her side-  _ I had just died and I was vulnerable. It preyed on me.  _

_ What the hell did you expect  _ a devil _ to do?  _ Bora shouts. 

"Silence," it snarls, as the void fills with an image. There's a forest, and someone standing on a porch, and Handong realizes with growing horror that she's looking through his eyes again and this is the place where she died. It's difficult to see in the dark, but there are three bodies out there. She squirms to try and get closer. Then, he lifts a gun and fires. 

"You couldn't  _ possibly _ think you were the only ones with a gun," he says, at the same time as Siyeon's scream splits the air. 

_ No! _ Handong finally breaks free of its iron grip on her and runs forward. She reaches her hands into the void.  _ Siyeon- That must be Yoobin- No, no, no! They need to move! Run, you idiots! You're going to die! _

It laughs. "See what I mean? Isn't this fascinating? I wasn't expecting this from them."

_ What are they doing?  _ Yoohyeon asks. Handong doesn't tear her gaze from the images in front of her.  _ What's happening?  _

"What did we do to you?" Yoobin asks. Her voice is raw with emotion. It looks like she's holding a gun. Handong curls her fingers into fists. 

_ Please, get out of there. Run. Don't do anything stupid.  _ She feels a cry bubbling in the back of her throat. She bites it back.

_ They're fighting back?  _ Bora asks.  _ Against the fucker that killed you guys? _

_ Oh, no,  _ Yoohyeon says.  _ That's not good.  _

"Listen to him, spouting lies," the devil mutters. It sounds like its rolling its eyes. "He has no idea why this is happening. I wonder how he'd react if he knew this was for  _ you _ ." It loops at least three arms around her shoulder and chest and torso. Thank God she can't see it. "Let's see, how will this-"

Suddenly, it drops her, and she stumbles. The image in front of her flickers, as if changing cameras. Suddenly, Handong is looking up at an angry, blood-spattered Siyeon, with tears streaking her face, and shaking hands. "That- Hang on, that wasn't supposed to happen," the devil says. "How the fuck did  _ that _ happen?" 

_ What's going on?  _ Yoohyeon asks. 

The image flickers back to Shiang's perspective. "Chinmae!" he shouts, and Handong's face splits into a grin involuntarily. 

_ Siyeon killed someone!  _ she says.  _ She killed his partner!  _

_ One down, one to go!  _ Bora cries. 

The devil digs its fingers into Handong's wrists. "This changes nothing," it says, its raspy voice more of a hiss than anything else. "This only delays the inevitable-"

He stumbles backward, looks down. Blood is bursting from a wound that he presses a bandaged hand to; his arm is looped around a crutch. He lifts his head and raises the gun again. Handong whimpers.  _ Run, run, get out of there. Come back to them. You can do it.  _

It squeezes her wrist. "You are a fool, Handong."

_ C'mon, Yoobin!  _ Yoohyeon cheers.  _ C'mon, Siyeon! Kick his ass! Yeah! _

_ How do you know they're winning?  _ Bora asks. 

_ I don't. I'm just hoping. I'm hoping really, really hard.  _

There were three bodies standing a moment ago. Now there is only one - Yoobin, it's Yoobin, she's running, finally. She turns tail and runs back into the blackness. Handong winces at the sound of glass shattering.  _ Maybe we can win yet _ , she thinks, letting herself have a bit of hope.  _ There's a chance.  _

Hand or elbow or fist or something smacks her chest. She stumbles backwards - ah, great, time to fall again- only to be caught by Bora.  _ Someone's a sore loser,  _ the smaller girl teases. She helps Handong to her feet. 

It growls, coagulates. Its head is far too wide with features that shift and melt between the three of them; its teeth are sharp and numerous; it's got seven, eight arms and counting. Bora grabs Handong's hand. "You forget who you're dealing with," it spits.

Yoohyeon crosses over to Bora's other side and links arms with her.  _ No one, yet _ , she says, raising an eyebrow.  _ That's what you told us, at least.  _

_ Yes, you're nobody.  _ Handong squeezes Bora's hand.  _ No god, no devil. Nobody.  _

Bora smirks.  _ A pathetic little nobody that preys on vulnerable humans.  _

For the first time since her death, Handong feels something other than weakness. A small smile creeps on her face. 

It doesn't respond. Slowly, its face shifts to a reasonable size, wiped clean of features save for a single black eye in the middle of its forehead. It makes a noise, like a hum, like a buzz, like a mechanical  _ whirr _ . Then, its mouth opens - a black, gaping maw, toothless, dripping ooze - in a sort of smile, and then it is gone. 

_ Did… Is it dead?  _ Bora asks.  _ Did we kill it?  _

Handong shakes her head.  _ No, it just does that. It comes and goes. It's probably always here.  _

_ Fuck, is this what death feels like?  _ asks a new voice, and the trio drops each other's hands.  _ This is awful.  _

Handong turns around, searching for Siyeon's appearance. There's a body lying somewhere in the distance; it sits up, and it's Siyeon, without a doubt. Bora takes off at a run and tackles her so they're both on the ground again.  _ Welcome to the party,  _ Yoohyeon says.  _ Sorry you have to be here. _

_ I'm so sorry, I failed you, I know you were worried because you're not subtle,  _ Bora babbles. Siyeon struggles to sit up under her.  _ I regretted it as soon as I did it but it's okay, I guess, because now we're all here.  _

Siyeon puts her hand on Bora's face.  _ I knew it,  _ she says. Handong and Yoohyeon exchange a quick look - the younger girl shrugs.  _ Where  _ is _ here, by the way? _

_ Why don't you ask Handong?  _ Yoohyeon says, motioning at her. 

Bora backs away to let Siyeon stand; Handong withers under her gaze.  _ Right, okay. Welcome to purgatory.  _ She looks at her hands.  _ I was sacrificed by Shiang to some deity-devil-thing that won't share its name, and then in a panic, I made a deal with it I shouldn't have, which is how the other two ended up here.  _ Points to Yoohyeon.  _ But you, you were killed by Shiang, so… Even if I hadn't said anything, you'd be here.  _

Siyeon's face falls.  _ You… You what?  _ She walks forward, lifts her hands, stares Handong in the eyes.  _ No, you didn't.  _

_ I'm sorry.  _ Handong drops her gaze.  _ This is all my fault. If I hadn't opened my mouth, none of this would've happened.  _

Siyeon wraps her arms around her in a tight, squeezing hug.  _ You idiot _ , she says.  _ It's good to see you again. I just wish it wasn't like this.  _

Handong buries her head in her friend's neck.  _ I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.  _

_ Well, hey.  _ Yoohyeon claps her hands.  _ Now there's four of us. Four is better than two. Right?  _

_ Right _ , Bora says.  _ We can get out of here yet.  _

Something laughs; it echoes around the nothingness. Siyeon squeezes her fingers into Handong's back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: most of this chapter has been written for weeks bc i got too excited, but i kept holding back on the plot twist. and now we're here.


	16. what's your secret?

Gahyeon has never been happier to see a hotel bed in her life. Officer Kim leads the three of them up four floors, to a room with the number 5104, and gives them each a key. He’s saying something when he opens the door, but Gahyeon’s barely paying attention. She staggers into the room and flops face-first on the first bed she sees. It smells like clean linen. She sinks four inches into the mattress. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Minji is saying. “We’ll be sure to be careful.”

Someone takes a seat on the other bed. Gahyeon toes her sneakers off and curls up on top of the blankets. “Judging from how quick investigations typically progress, you should be able to return to the dorm in the next three days,” the officer says. He sighs, sounds like he’s smiling. “Someone will be here to check on you every day, just to be safe. Try not to leave the hotel too much. Good night, girls.” 

The door clicks shut. Gahyeon sits up and blinks blearily. Minji’s pulling her shoes off at the other bed, and Yoobin is standing next to the television, her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t like this,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t like waiting.”

“Me either,” Minji says. She yawns. “But it’s all we can do at this point.”

Yoobin shakes her head. “That’s not true. We have to move, or else we’ll die.”

Gahyeon picks up a pillow and hugs it like a stuffed animal. “What are you talking about?” she asks. “What can we do? Run away?” 

“That’s seriously tempting me right now,” Yoobin says. She taps her finger against her upper arm. “We have to prepare, because… Well, first, I need the gun back…” She’s started to pace, thinking out loud as she does so. Gahyeon tracks her with her eyes and buries her chin in the pillow. “Once we get that, we need some bullets…”

“First, we need to sleep,” Minji says. “We can discuss this in the morning.”

Yoobin sighs. “No, first I need to get back to the dorm and get the gun back. If they investigate and find it and trace it to me, I’ll be thrown in jail, and you’ll no longer be able to defend yourself, and you’ll be sitting ducks.” She combs her fingers through her hair. “If we can get there tonight, that’d be best, but I don’t have a car…”

Minji falls backwards on her bed. “Whatever you’re planning, just… Count me out, please. It’s been a long day and I just want to sleep.” She sighs. “I still think it can wait till morning.”

“I threw the gun in the dumpster outside Bora’s window,” Yoobin says. “They’re gonna search there eventually. We need to get it back now…” She stops her pacing by the window, pushes the curtain aside. “Except it’ll take God-only-knows how long to walk there….” Taps her finger on the glass. 

Gahyeon sets the pillow back on the others. “Do you want someone to go with you?” she asks, rubbing her eyes. “Because… I guess I can. I mean, I don’t wanna, but if we have to-”

“We do.” Yoobin steps away from the window. “If we don’t move fast, we’re, well… We’re screwed. I can explain on the way. Unless you want to know now, Minji.”

Minji lifts one of her hands lazily. “You’re not gonna change your mind, no matter what I say,” she mutters. Her eyes are half shut. “I mean, I’d feel better if you just tossed the gun and left it at that, but…”

Yoobin sighs. “I promise you, when this is  _ all _ over, I will throw the gun into the ocean and we never have to deal with it again. I’ll change my name or cut off my step-dad. I’ll do whatever I need to to make sure this is over and done with for  _ good _ . Promise.” She holds up her hand. “Pinky swear? I know it makes you uncomfortable.”

“You better,” is all Minji says. “Stay safe, guys. I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get back.” 

Gahyeon pulls her sneakers back on. “Can we stop at the vending machine? I need a drink. Or else I’ll pass out on the way there.” As if on cue, she yawns, wide and cat-like. She shakes her head, blinks, slides off the bed. 

Yoobin nods. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t worry too much, though. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack again, not when he’s injured like that. Unless he has more allies than I think he does, which… I don’t want to think about that.” She waves her hand, beckoning for Gahyeon to follow. “Tonight has been a  _ night _ .”

“Yeah,” Gahyeon mumbles. They walk out of the room, following the signs to the vending machines. “What happened, by the way?” 

Yoobin points at the cameras and shrugs. “In a moment,” she says. 

Gahyeon puts in three hundred won for a can of Monster, pops the tab, and takes a sip. Yoobin leads her towards the elevator, then out the back door. They skirt the bushes surrounding the parking lot and stop on the sidewalk. “Remember a week ago? When you got drugged?” the older girl says, without taking her eyes from her phone. 

The energy drink is already nearly empty; pure sugar hits Gahyeon’s stomach and sends a jolt through her limbs. “Barely?” she says. “Since I was drugged? Why?”

Yoobin points down the road, and the pair walk down the barely occupied sidewalk. They cling to the streetlights and each other. The slightest noise makes Gahyeon jump. “It starts there,” Yoobin says. 

They stop at an intersection, and Yoobin launches into a long, almost unbelievable tale that starts with the bartender from what feels like a lifetime ago and ends with Siyeon stabbing a man to death before bleeding out on the forest floor. Every sentence that falls from Yoobin’s lips shocks Gahyeon more. She digs her fingers into Yoobin’s wrist. 

“When I drove off, I’d shot Shiang, but something tells me that won’t stop him for long. He was up and walking after being caught in  _ that _ car crash literally a day ago. A gunshot is nothing to him.” Yoobin winces and wiggles her hand in Gahyeon’s. “Let go, that’s starting to hurt.”

“Sorry.” Gahyeon drops her hand, flexes her fingers, buries them in the pocket of her hoodie. “So, he’s crazy, huh?”

Yoobin shrugs. “Basically, yes,” she says. She shakes her head slowly. “He thinks he’s doing this for some God or whatever. And that scares me more than the fact that he’s slowly killing all of us.” They’ve been walking for about ten minutes; Gahyeon recognizes this corner store that they’re passing. 

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head. 

“Because that means he’s not going to give up. He believes he  _ has _ to do this, so he won’t give up until he  _ has _ . The only way to guarantee that we’re safe is for him to disappear, be it because he’s thrown in jail or dead himself. Even if we run, he could follow us.” Yoobin checks her phone and sighs. “I think that’s the worst part of this.”

Gahyeon feels her blood run cold - or maybe it’s the caffeine suddenly kicking in, she’s not sure and, frankly, she doesn’t care. “So we can’t just… Leave Seoul. We have to leave the country.” She fixes her gaze at the streetlight that marks the entrance to the dormitory parking lot. “I have a friend in Japan we could stay with, at least for a bit. Or maybe we could reach out to Handong’s parents and hide in China. Or… I dunno. The Philippines? No, that isn’t a good idea…”

They round a corner and walk to the back of the dorms, so they’re closer to the dumpster. Yoobin tilts her head. “Japan feels like a good place,” she says, hopping off the curb. “They’re pretty good at protecting people. Can you talk to her tomorrow?” 

Gahyeon nods. “Yeah! We talk almost every day, anyway. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.” She checks her phone - it’s fast approaching one in the morning. Thank God she only has one class on Fridays. She doubts she’ll be awake before noon - and anyway, she won’t be able to attend, she doesn’t have her laptop. She needs to sleep. Her brain is starting to shut down.  


“We’ll talk to Minji about it tomorrow,” Yoobin is saying as she walks back towards the dumpsters. She lifts her phone up and uses it as a flashlight. “I can’t see her having a problem with it. She’d like it best if no one else died, anyway. Crap, my phone’s almost dead…” She hops up on her tiptoes. Gahyeon looks over her shoulder to see if anyone’s coming. It’s eerily quiet, even for one in the morning; the road sounds muffled from here. She turns back around when Yoobin pops herself up onto the dumpster with a loud  _ bang _ . 

“Shouldn’t you be more careful? What if someone sees us?” she hisses. 

Yoobin sways back and forth on the edge of the dumpster. “Well, I have a place to hide. Do you?” With that, she leans down, and Gahyeon rubs her hands together impatiently. Despite the Monster-induced electricity coursing through her veins, she still feels ready to topple over at any moment. She hops up and down to keep herself awake.

“So, I have another question.”

“Mm, yeah?” Yoobin swings off the dumpster, flashing what’s definitely the gun briefly in front of the light before shoving it in her pocket. “What’s up?”

She jogs down to the younger girl, who shrugs. “Oh, just… What’s your secret?” she asks, staring at her. “Like, why do you know how to do this? What’s with the gun in the first place? There’s a chance we’re going to die in the next three days. Might as well learn now.”

Yoobin puffs out a heavy breath. “I knew I was going to have to do this eventually,” she mutters, more to herself then Gahyeon. “It’s a really long story.”

“We have half an hour and all of tomorrow.” 

They pause at the corner. Yoobin has a look in her eyes, like she’s trying to figure out where to begin. She cocks her head to one side, waves her hand, shrugs. “It’s… I don’t like my family,” she says. Pauses. “Dad, he had… Habits, y’know. He kept getting into trouble with the wrong people, from before I was born, on. And sometimes he’d get hurt. And sometimes they’d hurt my mom. Y’know, typical shit.” Stuffs her hands in her pockets. “Eventually, Mom hit her limit. They got divorced. She remarried. And I was like, ten. Mom thought we’d left this all behind.” Sighs. “We hadn’t.

“Turns out, some of Dad’s bullshit had gotten him connected to, well, gangs, and stuff like that. And by the time he was gone, it was too late - all of it was connected to us, and we were targets. Especially me.” She gestures at her face and sighs grimly. “I’ve always looked like him - apparently, the resemblance is strong enough that  _ others _ noticed it too. And that makes my life especially dangerous, at least, at night. It’s why I moved here, instead of sticking by my family. I was hoping I could just cut off my family and start my own life in Seoul, but then I went to visit, Mom gave me the gun because she said  _ Seoul was getting dangerous for girls like me _ , which was… At the time, I didn’t know what it meant. But it probably had something to do with my father.

“She was misinterpreting something she saw on the news. Really, I was in no danger. And the reason we’re targets now has  _ nothing to do with him _ . And that scares me.” She shrugs. “Everything scares me. But we can’t stop moving.” Tilts her head. “I think maybe this is a sign that I should have moved out of the country years ago. When I was first looking to get out of there, I thought about moving to Japan But I didn’t. Maybe it’s time. Maybe I should have. Not that this is  _ my _ fault, I don’t think I’m that important, but…” Kicks a pebble into the road. “Sometimes, I think about it. And that’s that.” She stops at another corner, checks the map on her phone. “That’s my secret.” 

Gahyeon stares at her, her eyes wide as dinner plates. Every word that she hears, every sentence… It feels like a story, like she’s stumbled into some kind of TV show. Except Yoobin’s face tells her that it’s the truth, and the older girl’s not one for  _ lying _ , just not  _ saying _ things. Gahyeon drops her gaze to the cracked sidewalk at her feet. “Holy shit, dude,” she says, after a long, almost unbearable pause. “You… Wow. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Yoobin smiles wanly. “Oh? What were you expecting?”

Gahyeon shakes her head, shrugs. “I don’t even know, just... Not that. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. I don’t know what to say.” She yawns. “Sorry, this is a lot to take in at one in the morning.”

“It’s a lot to take in at any time. You’re fine, Gahyeon.” Yoobin loops her arm through the younger girl’s. “Thank you.”

Gahyeon blinks. “For what?” she asks. They’re about halfway to the hotel at this point. 

“For listening. You’re the first person I’ve told _this_ to. I think…” Yoobin laughs drily. “I think that was my problem, keeping it bottled up. My head’s clearer. At least, it feels like it.”

Gahyeon nudges her side. “Maybe you’re just delirious,” she says. “It’s been a  _ long _ day.”

Yoobin nods. “You can say that again. You can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” She sweeps a hand through her hair. “I  _ need _ to shower.”

“Sure thing,” Gahyeon says. Then, she cocks her head to the side and smiles. “You know what I think? I think everything’s going to be okay.” And she means it. 

Yoobin raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?” she asks. 

Gahyeon shrugs, pulls her arm from Yoobin’s, laces their fingers together. “Because we have a plan,” she says. “Or at least, the beginnings of one. Because we’re safe for right now. And because we made it this far, right? He’s injured, we’re not. We’re free to move around, he’s not. The odds are in our favor, if you think about it.” She squeezes Yoobin’s hand. “We just… Have to keep moving.”

They pass by an alleyway; something within clatters, then hisses. Stray cat, most likely. Yoobin nods, albeit hesitantly. “Yes,” she says. “You’re right. Yes.” A soft smile spreads on her face. 

They walk the rest of the way in a comfortable silence; even the anxious thoughts bouncing around Gahyeon’s brain have quieted. She swings Yoobin’s hand back and forth as they walk. Just have to keep moving. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. 

They walk back in through the back entrance of the hotel without arousing any suspicion. Sure enough, Minji’s snoring away in the far bed. In the dim light from the hallway, it doesn’t even look like she changed. Gahyeon tiptoes into the room and the other bed, slips under the covers. She wiggles out of her hoodie and hangs it on the bedpost. 

Sleep takes her as soon as her head hits the pillow.

In her dreams, she falls. Nothingness surrounds her; there is nothing for her to hold on to. Voices flicker around her head, but she can’t make out the words, nor who they belong to. She falls, and falls, and falls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have any witty commentary this time. thank you all so much for reading this - we're almost there :)


	17. haunted

"And how much will that be?" Minji asks into the phone early next morning. The dim light of the alarm clock says 7:34. 

"I believe, Miss Kim, all expenses are covered for the next few days, due to the circumstances of your stay here," says the receptionist. "Your food will be delivered shortly." 

"Thank you," Minji says, as the receptionist hangs up. The hotel room is eerily quiet. She looks over at the other bed, at the sleeping girl curled up within it; tucked into a ball like she is, Gahyeon looks half her age, small and innocent. Minji tears her eyes away and rolls over onto her back. On the couch to her left is a quietly snoring Yoobin. She's half dangling off the couch. It doesn't look comfortable. 

Minji sighs. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it, drops it on her chest. She doesn't have a single notification. She wasn't expecting to, but she still hopes. Still dreams. 

Her eyes flutter shut. She should try and get back to sleep, but the image of her nightmare haunts her. She can’t recall the details at this point, but the feeling remains, resonating around her skull like a ping pong ball. Snippets of voices play back in her head - Handong’s, Yoohyeon’s, Siyeon’s, Bora’s, her father,  _ his _ voice - but the words are unintelligible. They’re gibberish. Meaningless drivel. And yet…

She throws her hand over her forehead. Perhaps she’s just anxious, because she’s definitely overthinking. Dreams are meaningless, after all. Just your brain trying to process the events of the day. Nothing more, nothing less. 

7:40. She’s running on six hours of fitful sleep. At least she’s got nothing to do today. 

Yoobin snorts, making Minji jump. She sits up and blinks blearily. “What time is it?” she mumbles. 

Minji’s not entirely sure she’s awake. “Seven thirty,” she says, through a yawn of her own. “When did you get back?”

Yoobin pulls herself onto the couch, tucks the thin hotel blanket around her legs. “Two?” she says. She shrugs and curls up again. “Dunno.”

“Did you…” Minji struggles to finish the sentence. The gun leaves a bad taste in her mouth. 

“Mm-hm.” The younger girl pulls the blanket over her head. “Everything’s… Gonna be… Fine.” 

Minji watches her drift back to sleep and sighs. “Yeah,” she says, to no one but herself. She wishes she could go back to sleep. Once again, she finds herself picking up her phone. This time, she opens YouTube. 

The silence is killing her. She plugs in her earbuds and waits for breakfast to arrive. 

The others don’t wake up to a  _ functional _ degree until noon. Sure, Gahyeon’s awake by ten-thirty, but she spends half an hour on her phone and another forty minutes using up all the hot water in the shower. Yoobin’s like a log, unable to be woken up by anything, which is quite unlike her. Minji chalks it up to stress and doesn’t question it. 

They order more room service, lament their lack of fresh laundry - Gahyeon’s made up for it by wrapping herself in a bedsheet-towel-toga thing, and they laugh for a bit - watch the news. They don’t talk about the night before, not for a while. 

Eventually, Minji breaks the silence. Not having a plan is getting to her; anxiety has sunk into the bottom of her stomach, and it threatens to make her lose her breakfast. “So,” she says, turning the volume on the TV down, much to Gahyeon’s squeak of protest, “what are we doing now?”

She looks between her two companions, who are both looking elsewhere. “Watching TV,” Gahyeon says. She smiles a bit. 

Minji rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant,” she says. “With… The future. What are we doing next?”

“We can’t stay in Seoul,” Yoobin says. She clasps her fingers together and stretches. “That’s a given. So we need to get out of here, at least temporarily.”

Minji tilts her head. “I have family out in the countryside. They’d be willing to take me in, at least. I’m sure I can convince them about the rest of you.”

Gahyeon lifts up her phone. “I have a friend in Tokyo. She hasn’t gotten back to me yet, but I  _ think _ we’ll be fine?” She taps the screen a few times. “She’s nice, at least.”

“And if we can’t leave?” Minji asks. She drops her gaze to her hands. “What then?”

Yoobin sighs, pushing herself to her feet. She steps over to the nightstand next to Minji’s bed and pulls it open. “Then we need more bullets,” she mutters. From out of the drawer she takes the gun. Minji flinches. “I wouldn’t mind having more, anyway.” Yoobin pops the gun open, squints into it. “I’m down to… one.” Swallows. “And I’d have to be damn lucky to kill him with one-”

“We’re not killing anyone!” Minji says. Her hands fly up almost involuntarily; she grabs Yoobin’s wrists. “We’re  _ not _ killing anyone. No one else is going to  _ die _ .” Panic seizes at her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

“Let go, Minji,” Yoobin says coolly. She wiggles her way free from her grip. “I don’t want to kill him, either, but we need to be  _ prepared _ .” Sets the gun back in the drawer, shuts it. “That’s all I’m suggesting. No more, no less.”

Gahyeon clears her throat and shifts. She’s clinging to her pillow. “I don’t think we’ll have much of a choice,” she says. “I mean, I don’t want to kill anyone, either, but… But… If it came down to one of  _ us _ dying or  _ him _ dying, it’s obvious.” She smiles grimly. “Okay, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to suffer. I don’t think I could do it, though.” 

Minji bits her lip. “When would we leave?” she asks, changing the subject. “We should at least get some stuff before we go.”

“I don’t think we have a place yet,” Gahyeon says. She drops her gaze to her phone. “Tamako hasn’t replied.” 

Yoobin shrugs. “As soon as we can?” she offers, stepping back to the couch and dropping onto it. “Once we get back in the dorms, at least. We do need stuff. We can’t just… Leave. As tempting as it is.” She flexes her hands together. “When does she normally wake up?”

Gahyeon smiles wanly. “Like, two. She’s an artist. You know what their sleep schedules are like.”

“Aren’t you an artist, too?” Minji cocks an eyebrow. “Technically?”

The younger girl shrugs and falls back onto the bed. “I rest my case.” 

Minji sighs. “Look, we can’t do anything until we know for sure where we’re going,” Yoobin says. “So… When we get back to the dorms, maybe a day? How long will it take to buy plane tickets? Or get a working car? We’d need Siyeon’s keys for the SUV and…” She trails off and doesn’t finish that sentence. 

Minji lifts her phone up. After several hours of near consistent use, it’s already almost out of juice. “Well, we can solve that problem later,” she says, just as her phone rings in her hand. It startles her; she jumps. “God dammit, Dad,” she mutters, answering and pressing the phone to her ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

She walks over to the little alcove by the doorway for privacy. Gahyeon gives her a quizzical look as she passes. “So,” her father says, “I was asked to take today off, what with the stress of this all.”

“Oh.” Minji brings a hand to her lips. “That’s… Okay, then.”

He laughs. “You understand why. To be honest, my boss has been nagging me to take a break since… Well, since it all began, but you know how I am. You know how I don’t like sitting still.”

She nods, even though he can’t see her. “Sure do, Dad.”

“Which is why I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me, for some…” He trails off and coughs. “Well, some under the table investigation.”

Minji’s eyes widen. “Dad, isn’t that- Well, that just- What do you mean?”

“Relax. It’s perfectly safe. I’d just take you with me, to investigate this place that your friend mentioned. Originally, they were planning on checking it out tomorrow but I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s more important than they think, especially when searching for  _ him _ . If you don’t want to, that’s fine. It’s entirely up to you, Minji.”

She curls her hand into her chest, screws her face up. “It’s…” she begins. 

It feels like a bad idea. Part of her is desperately trying to back out of this, say no before she gets herself into a mess that she can’t get out of. And yet, an even louder part of her, the part that speaks, wants her to go. She can’t just sit still. She wants to help. 

Besides, it’ll get her away from the conversation about the  _ gun _ .

“When do you think we’ll go?” she says with resolution. 

“I was thinking in the next half an hour, if that’s alright with you. Better to go in the cover of daylight. Harder for people to hide when it’s light out. I’ll come get you, then.”

She nods again. “See you soon, Dad.” And then she hangs up and turns around. Her friends are staring at her expectantly. “What?”

Gahyeon pokes one of her hands out of the blanket. “What’s happening?” she asks, waving her hand. “Where are we going?”

“ _ We _ are not going anywhere,” Minji says. “Dad’s picking me up to, uh… Just, go out, I guess.” She stumbles over the words. 

Yoobin cocks an eyebrow. “What are you guys going to be doing, Minji?” she asks. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Minji laughs nervously. “Oh, just out. To the place that you went last night, I think. He just wants to do some looking around.”

No one speaks; the room goes silent. “Well, shit,” Gahyeon whispers. “You’re gonna die.”

“No, no!” Minji holds up her hands. “We’re going in  _ broad _ daylight and besides, he’s a police officer. He can keep me safe. Honestly,  _ he’s _ more… But- No, no one’s gonna die. I told you.” Curls her fingers into fists. “No one else  _ can _ die.” Her nails bite into the flesh of her palm. “Ow.” 

Yoobin swivels around so she’s lying properly on the couch. “I have faith in your dad,” she says, shrugging. “Not because he’s a cop, but because he’s your dad. And  _ besides _ -” she lifts her hand and waves it nonchalantly- “Shiang’s recovering from a gunshot wound. And a car crash. He’s either dead, dying, or in hiding. Not even he’d be stupid enough to fight back  _ now _ . Not when he’s as beat up as he is.”

Minji realizes that she still doesn’t know what happened last night. But that can wait. She shoves the thought out of her mind and nods enthusiastically. “Y-Yeah, exactly. I’ll be fine. Promise.” She smiles, holds up her little finger. “Pinky swear. I’m gonna come back tonight.”

Gahyeon shuffles her way to the end of the bed to complete the promise. “Well now you’re just tempting fate,” she chirps, but she’s smiling, even so. “If you die, I’m going to astral project into heaven and beat your ass, or whatever happens when you die.”

Minji rolls her eyes. “I  _ promise _ you won’t need to do that. But I will accept it. If you have to.” 

“You better.” Gahyeon feigns throwing a punch. “Oh, hey - what if you asked your dad for bullets?” She drops the blanket from around her shoulders, squeaks, scurries to pick it back up again. 

Minji grimaces. “What? No?” she says, at the same time that Yoobin says, “Well…”

She whirls to face the younger girl, waves her hands frantically. “Are you crazy? I can’t ask my dad for  _ bullets _ . I already lied to him about the  _ gun _ .” She scrubs her hands down her face. “Which is a literal crime. We’d all go to jail for that.”

“So don’t ask, then,” Gahyeon says. She shrugs, as if that’s the simplest thing in the world. “Just grab ‘em.”

Minji gapes. “ _ Steal bullets _ ? From my  _ father _ ? Who is a  _ police officer _ ?” She counts on her fingers. “That’s at least three separate crimes. No.”

“Only if you get caught!”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “That’s not how it works, Gahyeon. It’s still a crime.”

“And this is just a suggestion,” Yoobin says. Her eyes are trained on the television again. “It’s not important, anyway. We can always figure something out - if we’re lucky, we won’t even  _ need _ them, in the first place.”

This feels like a trap. Minji sighs and drops back on the bed. “I’ll let you guys know what happens,” she says, plugging her phone in.

Her father comes to get her in half an hour, just like he said he would. Minji feels a pang of regret at the thought of leaving her friends behind, but she pushes the thoughts out of her mind. She needs a break, anyway. She’s losing her mind staying in this hotel room. It’s like quarantine all over again.

The first five minutes of the car ride pass in an awkward silence. 

“Alright, Minji,” her father says as they turn onto the main road. “What’s on your mind?”

She fidgets, presses her forehead against the window, shrugs. “Just… Stressed, I guess,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “I’m sick of this. Sick of losing people. Sick of fear.”

Her father sighs, a solemn look in his eyes. “I understand,” he says. “This isn’t easy. Or natural. You shouldn’t have to be dealing with this right now… In a way, it feels like I failed you. I’m your father. I should have been able to protect you and all of your friends. And… I didn’t.” Shakes his head slowly. “It’s pointless to apologize, but I must. Words can’t bring people back to life but… I’m sorry, Minji.”

She looks at him. “For… What?” 

“Part of this is my fault. Or at least, it feels like it is.” He taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “If I’d trusted my gut, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. And for that, I will forever be sorry. I don’t think I will forgive myself.”

Minji’s first instinct is to say  _ It’s okay _ , because that’s what you’re supposed to do when comforting someone. Except it isn’t okay; he’s not entirely wrong. Misplaced trust got them here. And now they’re in a car driving god knows where to put an end to this. 

“You haven’t given up,” she says. “And… You’re doing this for me. Us. All of us.” She gestures around the car. “It’s not okay but… this makes it better. Thank you for doing this.” Smiles wanly. “Even if it’s not a lot. Thank you.”

Her father nods. “Of course. This is the least I can do.” He reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I love you, okay? And your friends, too. Don’t ever forget that.”

“I know, Dad.” She squeezes back. “I know.” 

She slowly pulls her hand away from her father’s and turns on the radio, just for the silence to end. A soft, gentle song starts to play. Minji recognizes it immediately as one of Yoohyeon’s favorites; her breath catches in her throat. 

She fixes her gaze out the windshield and counts the lampposts they pass. The ghost of her friend’s voice mingles with the singer’s in her ears. 

She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but the woods wasn’t it. 

Her father drives down a dirt road, the tires sinking into the mud left behind from the recent rainstorm, and Minji feels a hole open in her stomach. No wonder no one was caught; she doubts anyone’s been down here, besides them, because of the rain, because of how deep they are travelling into the woods. The radio’s started to cut out. 

“Are… Are you sure this is the right place?” she asks, squinting over out the window. The trees are getting denser and denser. 

Her father hums. “It’s what Yoobin said. Cabin in the woods, take exit thirty-five…” He leans over the steering wheel. “It should appear any minute now…”

He trails off as the car crunches over something. Sitting in front of them is a squat wooden cabin, rotting and old. The porch bows. The windows are dark. Minji has a bad feeling about this. 

“Look,” her father says, and he points at the ground. “Tire tracks.”

Minji follows his finger with her eyes. “And broken glass,” she says. The forest floor glitters with the stuff.

He shuts the car off and drops his hands. “Alright. This must be the place, then.” Jerks his hand towards the backseat. “There’s rubber gloves in the first aid kit in the trunk, for emergencies, but we should use them here. Just in case.”

She nods. “Right. Makes sense.” And doesn’t move. 

“You know,” he says, already opening his door, “if you want to go back to the hotel, or stay in the car-”

She shakes her head. “No, no. We’re here. I’m staying.” As if to emphasize her resolve, she pushes her door open and steps out. The ground slips under her feet; her sneakers sink into the mud. Wind whistles through the trees and chills her. 

The cabin in front of them looks abandoned. Its windows are covered in a thick red cloth that ripples in the breeze. The supports holding up the porch are splintering, peeling away. There are two muddy lines leading up the stairs. She shivers. 

“Here,” her father says, offering her a box of gloves. “I’m going to look around out here, just see what’s what.”

Minji takes a pair and fits them on. They cling uncomfortably to her skin. “I think I’ll head inside,” she says. She doesn’t wait for him to respond before walking up there. She takes high steps to avoid sinking into the dirt. 

The porch creaks under her weight. There’s a thin layer of mud, slowly drying, leading up the steps and to the door. She reaches out for the doorknob; it eases open on its own, scraping and screeching against the floor. She winces and peers inside. 

The lights are out, unsurprisingly, so she takes her phone out to use it as a flashlight. The mud - its blacker than the mud on her sneakers, she realizes - continues down the hall. A once-golden carpet lies bunched up and wrinkled against one of the walls. A small wardrobe cabinet is tilted askew. The door is slightly ajar, revealing a pair of shiny black shoes and a pair of tall boots. Minji picks her way carefully down the hallway. 

The hall opens up into a big room, slightly lit by the massive window on the side. It holds a dining table decorated with candles and fake fruit, a large television, a taxidermy deer. A bloody knife is embedded into the wood of the table, with a bloody handprint pressed next to it. More droplets dot the floor immediately next to the chairs. The mud continues to the stairs in front of her. 

It’s quiet. It’s so, so goddamn quiet, and Minji’s breath is echoing in her ears. She hops up on her tiptoes and sneaks her way towards the staircase. Not that there’s anyone here to hide from. She hopes. She can’t be too sure. 

When she turns her flashlight to the top of the stairs, the light catches on the blade of a large, intricately carved, violet colored hunting knife, dangling from one of its mounts at an odd angle. It sways back and forth with every step she takes. She holds her breath, inches past it.

It falls anyway. 

The clatter rings in the too quiet house. She hurries her way towards the first door she sees, pushes it open.

It’s a bedroom. The mud continues beneath her feet, all the way to the bed. The red rug is crumpled and wrinkled. The floor is smeared with dirt and something else. The room  _ reeks _ with a sickly sweetness. There’s something on the bed, covered completely by a sheet mottled with red and black stains.

She eases towards it.  _ I shouldn’t touch this.  _ Takes another step.  _ I don’t want to see what’s under this.  _

She grabs the sheets and pulls it aside. 

A man’s corpse stares back at her. 

Its brown eyes, glassy and sightless, pore into her own from a sunken, shiny face. Its lips are frozen in a scream. Its arms are folded over its chest. Dried blood crusts around an ugly wound on its neck. 

She screeches, drops the sheet, staggers backward. Her hand covers her mouth. “O-Oh, oh, God,” she stammers. “Th-That’s a body.” 

Her feet get tangled in the carpet. She plummets to the ground with a  _ thud _ . Her breathing catches in her throat. 

Something creaks. She goes dead silent, completely still, but nothing comes. She waits just a moment longer before she pushes herself to her feet and scurries out of the room. Her heart pounds, her legs shake. 

That was a body. Someone has brought a body - someone has dragged a body from outside, up the stairs, into the bed. Someone - no, it’s very  _ obvious who _ , killed someone and put them in the bed. 

There is another mud trail on the floor. It continues, down the hall, towards one of the two doors. 

_ Should I?  _ she thinks, and she shouldn’t, she knows she shouldn’t because god knows what she’s seeing down the hallway, but her feet are carrying her there anyway and it’s too late. It’s too late. She needs to know. 

At the last second, she stops herself. There’s two doors here - one to the right, one to the left. The mud continues to the left. She pushes open the door to the right.

It’s a bedroom. It’s  _ just _ a bedroom, she should say, because there is no body in the bed, just a fat metal box overflowing with bandages. Clothes and papers are strewn haphazardly around the room. The bedsheet is stained with blood; droplets decorate the floor. But there is no body in the bed, and clearly, the person who was in the room previously left in a hurry, judging from the mess they made - he made, she tells herself, because she knows  _ exactly _ who it has to have been. 

She tiptoes into the room, her hands curled into her chest. She’s not sure what she’s looking for. Perhaps nothing at all, perhaps she’s just stalling for time. She forces her breathing to slow. 

Bright blue ink catches her eye; she glances down on the desk, reaches to pick up the one pieces of paper written in hangul. Four of the things written on it are crossed out, with little notes scrawled on the side. She knows, right away, what they are, without even reading them.

_ Han Dong. Kim Yoohyeon. Kim Bora. Lee Siyeon. Lee Yoobin. Lee Gahyeon. Kim Minji. ??? Running only delays the inevitable and Yoobin’s death will be  _ _ fucking sweet. _

__ The paper slips from her fingers and flutters to the ground. 

_ How did he know my name? What does he mean  _ the inevitable _? What’s going on here? _

The door to the closet swings gently, side to side, back and forth. Minji bolts, out of the bedroom and across the hall, without thinking. This time, the door slams shut behind her, and she is left in the dark. 

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she breathes. Her hands are shaking, shaking so much she’s struggling to pull her phone out of her pocket. She succeeds, turns on the flashlight, regrets it. 

In front of her is a small altar, it looks like. Another blade catches the light, reflecting and shining and glittering. Directly beneath it, in the center of the table, is a canine skeleton. It’s stuffed with wilting flowers. Slowly, she inches towards it, more out of curiosity than anything else. She reaches out a finger towards one of the buds. 

It crumbles to dust at her mere touch. 

She backs away again, taking small steps. Her foot squelches on something; she jumps away. She twists around, trying to see what she stepped on. 

A hand. A hand, with blood and mud and dirt crusted in the lines of its palm. It doesn’t move, just lies there. It’s draped in a nice white sleeve. 

Minji scans the flashlight up, completely unable to breathe. She recognizes that shirt, though, admittedly, with less blood on it. She recognizes that face, too, even with gory black holes where the eyes are supposed to be. She claps her hand over her mouth. The world tilts. 

“Si- Siyeon,” she whimpers. She crouches, stretches a shaking hand towards the body slumped in front of her. “O-Oh god, Siyeon, n-n-no-”

The door slides open. She screams, rockets away towards the alter, slams into it. The bones rattle and shake and drop down around her. “Minji- Minji, it’s just me!” her father says. He shakes his hands. “Are you- What the hell is that?” 

Minji drops her hands from her face. “Sorry,” she says, her voice strained. “I’m- It’s-” She points pitifully at the body, which is now half in shadow from the door. 

Her father peers around to look. “Oh.”

She starts to move, smacks her head on the table. A foot bone rolls off and bounces off her leg. “I-I think- I’m gonna throw up.” She crawls forward, then stands. Her phone has slipped from her grip. She reaches down to get it. 

Siyeon’s body has slumped over further now. Empty eye sockets stare at the floor. Minji squeezes past her father and runs down the stairs and back towards the car. She manages to make it to the treeline before she  _ has _ to drop to her knees and empty her stomach. 

Oh, God. Siyeon’s dead here, and Shiang must have killed her, and  _ him _ too, and he’s planned all of this, he knows who they are and he’s planned all of this, and he’s not going to stop until they’re all fucking  _ dead _ , and-

She leans over a puddle of vomit and gasps for breath. Her stomach turns and roils. “ _ Fuck _ ,” she moans. She can’t think of anything else to say. She rocks back, wipes her mouth, gags. She needs to settle her nerves. And her gut, before she loses what little else she has in there. 

She staggers to her feet, picks her way carefully towards the trunk of the car. There’s a first aid kit in there, right. Perhaps there’s something in there that can help. Pepto-Bismol or an antacid or something. The trunk is still open, just a bit. She pushes it open and reaches for the box that has the first aid kit. It’s next to a black backpack that jingles when she nudges it. 

She hesitates for a moment, her hands hovering next to the bag.  _ What… was that?  _ She tugs it towards her. It clanks again. 

Curiosity has not gotten her anywhere good today, but she obeys it anyway and unzips the front pocket. 

Inside is an open box of what is unmistakably bullets. She picks it up, examines it in the light. A memory lurks in the back of her mind. Yoobin’s voice, Gahyeon’s giggling suggestion to steal something.

“Minji? Are you alright?” her father calls. She pokes her head around the trunk just in time to see him coming down the steps of the porch. 

She looks back at the bag. “No?” she says. “I’m just grabbing some- antacids-” 

It’s now or never. She shouldn’t do this. 

The image of Siyeon’s body floats behind her eyelids when she blinks. Her head is suddenly overwhelmed with the voices of her friends, but she can’t make out the words, can’t figure out what they’re trying to tell her. She swallows. 

“We’ll head back now,” he’s saying. “I think… I think I know what I need to do next…”

She grabs the open box, shoves it in the pocket of her hoodie, and slams the trunk shut. “Right,” she says. Her voice is hollow in her chest. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Please.” 

She clutches her pocket tightly to keep it from making noise and slips into the passenger seat. “Absolutely, Minji,” her father says. 

They drive back in silence, except for the ringing in her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i almost cried writing this chapter
> 
> thank you all so much for 1000 hits that's incredible 🥺🥺


	18. flight, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay; the semester changed and i lost a ton of time in the middle of the day, not to mention odd eye coming out and taking up all my time with streaming and collecting votes and the like!!! haha!!!! wow
> 
> crazy to think i started this during boca and now we're here
> 
> almost done :)
> 
> (this chapter is unbetaed bc i needed to get it out)

Yoobin lies back on the other bed and sighs. “The television?” she says. 

Gahyeon hums. “Warmer,” she says. 

“The television  _ remote _ ?”

“Warmer yet!”

Yoobin props herself up on her arm, squints at the entertainment unit. “The photo book  _ next _ to the television,” she says, pointing at it. 

The younger girl lifts her hands in a thumbs up. “You got it!” she chirps. “Alright then, your turn.” She flops backwards. 

Yoobin twists her head, looking around the room. Her eyes fall on the blinking red light of the phone between the beds. She stares back up at the ceiling. “I spy with my little eye,” she says, closing her eyes, “something red.”

“Hmm,” Gahyeon says. “ _ Red _ , huh? That’s a tricky one.” She puffs out a breath. “Is it the  _ cover _ of the photo book? There’s a red bird on it.” 

Yoobin hadn’t noticed that, truthfully. She shakes her head. “Try again.”

Gahyeon huffs and sits up. “ _ Man _ ,” she says, sighing. “Um… The curtains?”

Yoobin shakes her head again; Gahyeon falls back dramatically. She’s trying to wring as much entertainment out of this game as she can. Her efforts are not unappreciated. “Okay, okay. The coffee packet?”

Before Yoobin can disagree  _ this _ time, however, there’s a rattling at the door. Instinctively, she shoots upright, rests one hand on the nightstand next to her. “Who’s there?” Gahyeon calls, tugging the blanket tighter around her. 

“It’s just us,” Officer Kim is saying, and Yoobin relaxes  _ just _ a bit. The door swings open slowly. A rattled, shell-shocked Minji staggers into the room and takes a seat next to Gahyeon. Her father comes shortly after. “I’d order dinner, if I were you. She’s a bit shaken up by… I shouldn’t have done this. Forgive me. I’ll see you girls again tomorrow.”

Before Yoobin can ask what’s wrong, he vanishes, clicking the door shut behind him. Minji takes a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” Gahyeon asks. She puts her hand on Minji’s shoulder, drops the blanket a bit to offer it to her friend. 

Minji pulls something out of her pocket and tosses it at Yoobin suddenly. The younger girl can’t catch it; it drops to the floor with a metallic clatter. “Take them,” she says, her voice edged with panic. “Take your stupid fucking bullets. Why didn’t you  _ tell _ me that  _ that _ was where Siyeon was?” She leans forward, and Yoobin flinches away at the intensity on her face. “Why didn’t you _ tell me _ ?” 

“Minji, Minji,” Gahyeon says, pulling her aside. “Calm down. You were asleep, and then you didn’t want to talk about it, so…”

Minji balls her hands into fists and presses them against her temples. “What the hell is going on here? Because I thought- I thought I’d get some answers from visiting this place but now I’m more confused than ever.” She stares directly into Yoobin’s soul. “Explain. Please. I need to know.”

Yoobin sighs, leans forward, grabs Minji’s hands. “What I’m about to say is going to be a little ridiculous,” she says, squeezing her hands gently. “But I swear that it’s true - and Gahyeon knows all of this already. I wouldn’t lie about this.” She doesn’t smile. “Promise me that you’ll listen.”

“I saw a skeleton stuffed with flowers and a body tucked into bed and Siyeon with  _ no eyes _ ,” Minji says, all in one breath. “I don’t know what’s happening but ridiculous doesn’t even  _ begin _ to cover it.” 

Yoobin swallows. Siyeon’d died right there, right in front of her - at least, that was the assumption Yoobin’d been working on. “Siyeon… What?” Her eyes widen. “I didn’t know that part, or the skeleton…” She sighs. “It must go deeper than I thought, and that’s terrifying.”

“ _ Stop _ being  _ cryptic _ and get to the point,” Minji says. Her hands have started to shake; her eyes are filled with fear. “What’s going on?”

Yoobin takes a deep breath and relays all the information she knows, from the very beginning. The bartender, the drugging, the god, everything she can remember. She leaves no details out. 

Minji’s digging her fingernails into Yoobin’s wrist. “You’re kidding,” she breathes. “This all started… And it’s… And  _ God _ is involved?” She furrows her brow. “No, that… That can’t be real, right?” 

Delicately, Yoobin pulls Minji’s fingers off of her skin. “I don’t think so,” she says. “I think he’s just crazy. He clearly just wants to kill someone, and we’re just the targets.”

“You said Siyeon didn’t have…?” Gahyeon doesn’t finish her thought; she just stares, blankly, at Minji, and she puts her hand on the older girl’s. 

Minji nods slowly. “She’d been dragged upstairs, to this room with a weird altar and the dog skeleton, and there were cuts down her face like  _ this _ -” she draws two thin lines down her cheeks- “and there were bloodstains on her shirt-”

Gahyeon gasps, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Just like Handong,” she whispers. “Remember? Handong had the bandages around her eyes, and the cuts…” She curls her fingers into her fist. “Oh, god, that’s horrible.”

Yoobin blanches. “So, it must be a ritual of some sort,” she says. “It’s on purpose.”

“He wanted to do that to Yoohyeon,” Minji says. “And he wants to do it to  _ you _ .” She points at Yoobin. “There was a list, with our names on it, and he has it out for you particularly.” 

Yoobin shivers. “Me, huh?” Curls her finger into her chest. 

The older girl's eyes flutter shut. "It said- something like,  _ Running is inevitable and Yoobin's death will be sweet _ ." She shakes her head, presses her hands to it. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Me either," Gahyeon whispers. She leans her head against Minji's shoulder. 

Yoobin says nothing. She just stares at her hands and thinks. What makes her special? Why specifically her? She wasn't particularly close to Handong - if that were the case, it'd be  _ Gahyeon _ he should want, not her. She's sort of a leader, but in reality, they're all having ideas and bouncing them off each other and no one knows what they're doing,  _ anyway _ , and Minji will have the final say in whatever crazy plan they have. If anybody should be the target, it  _ should _ be her, because her father's directly involved in the investigation. 

Her eyes fall on the box of bullets lying on the floor. Two are poking out the top. She slides her gaze to the nightstand. Maybe…

She bends to pick the box up and estimates how many are in there. Ten? Eight? It's not a lot, but if luck is in their favor, it should be enough. 

Except luck hasn't been in their favor much, if at all, these past few weeks. 

Minji twists her head to look at Gahyeon, asks, "Have you heard from Tamako?" 

The younger girl checks her phone and sighs. "Nope. She was online a bit ago, but she only posted a link to a weird, shady sunglasses website on her Twitter." She grimaces. "I think she's been hacked. Wouldn't that  _ suck _ ?" 

Yoobin closes her eyes and also the box. No, luck hasn't been on their side at  _ all _ .

Perhaps there  _ is _ some kind of divine intervention going on. 

Minji laughs drily. "Sure would, wouldn't it," she mutters. "Alright." She gently nudges Gahyeon aside, stands unsteadily. "I'm going to take a shower and cry, I think. Maybe. Definitely the former. Would you two order dinner? As much as you want? Please?" 

Neither girl gets a chance to respond; Minji's already staggering towards the bathroom, but not before tossing her hoodie onto the bed. Yoobin watches her go, her hand on the box. "Sounds good?" Gahyeon calls, as the door clicks shut. She tugs her blanket around her and slithers over to the other bed. "This is… fucked up." Rests her head on Yoobin. 

"That's a good word for it," Yoobin says. She looks at the phone with dead eyes. "Are  _ you _ hungry?"

The younger girl sighs. "Not really. I'm guessing you're not, either?"

Yoobin nods. "Leave it to Minji to be the only one with an appetite," she says, and she smiles, just a bit. "We'll just order her favorites. Can you get off my arm so I can make the call?"

Gahyeon sticks her lower lip out and grips Yoobin's elbow tighter. She rolls her eyes. 

Freedom comes in the next day, surprisingly. One of the officers that interrogated Yoobin swings by to pick them up; Yoobin has to fake a need to use the bathroom in order to sneak the gun out of there. She hopes her hoodie is large enough to cover the bulge in her bra where she stuffed the thing. She also hopes it warms up quickly so no one questions her facial expressions.

"You good?" Minji hisses, once they're in the car. Despite being the tallest of the three of them, she's  _ graciously _ offered to take the middle seat. 

Yoobin just shrugs and clicks her seatbelt. Perhaps it's the clear distrust in the officer's eyes, or the air conditioner on full blast for some reason, or the anxiety lurking in the back of her head, but the ride from the police station back to the dorms seems to last so much longer than the inverse. She presses her head to the cool glass and watches the world go by. People walk their dogs down the street, talk on the phone, pose for photos, just like a regular Sunday. 

She finds herself wondering if she'll ever have a regular Sunday again. 

She expects to be happy to see the dorms again, in the daylight, in a way that they can return for good - or at least, the next three days, depending on whenever Tamako gets back to Gahyeon - but there's a weird, anxious sinking feeling, like she's looking at her grave. She touches her hand to her chest, feels the handle of the pistol. There's so much riding on this. On her. Or Gahyeon or Minji or whoever ends up with the gun when- no,  _ if _ she kicks the bucket. And she won't. She can't start thinking like that, not now. Because then she  _ will _ trip up, and then they will  _ all _ be doomed. 

The officer pulls into a parking spot right next to Yoobin's car, albeit with an intact windshield. "Oh," she says, involuntarily. "How'd that get fixed?"

"Yes, I believe Officer Kim paid for it," their driver says. He casts a glance over his shoulder. "He's very good to you three." He sounds skeptical; Yoobin decides she doesn't like him and keeps her mouth shut. 

Gahyeon claps her hands. "That means we have a car," she says, and she clicks her seatbelt. "And we have a house again." She pushes her car door open, slips out. 

"Thank you, Officer Park," Minji says. Yoobin just nods and steps out. Gahyeon is hopping up and down; she seems to be excited about the prospect of returning home, or getting out of clothes, or something. 

They walk together, side by side, into the dorms. Yoobin hopes, as Minji is unlocking the door, that she'll feel something good about coming home again. 

"Here we are," Minji says, flicking the light on. 

Yoobin doesn't. 

Even with the light on and sunshine shining through the windows, the common room feels dark and cold. It's too neat, too tidy. The cops covered their tracks - nothing is out of place - but it just feels  _ wrong _ . Yoobin's grown used to the mess and now she feels like it's too clean, like the last traces of her friends have been wiped away. She shuffles into the common room and touches the coffee table. "Have you heard from Tamako yet?" she asks, without looking over at her friends.

Gahyeon whimpers, at the same time, "This just feels  _ wrong _ ." Then, pause. "Oh, no. Someone she knows told me that she was hacked, and then Twitter locked her account, and she doesn't know when she'll get it back." Sighs, plaintively. 

Minji walks further into the room. "Well, we're home,” she says, though she doesn’t sound too happy either. “That’s something.”

“Yeah,” Gahyeon mumbles, rather unconvincingly. 

Yoobin says nothing, just stares at the black television screen in front of her. There’s a thin layer of dust already forming on it, even though it’s only been three days. Minji claps her hands. “Hey, it’s not too bad. It’s just… Weird. We just need to… Make the best of this.” She drops down on the middle of the couch. 

Gahyeon shuffles over to join her, sits next to her. “Make the best of this,” she echoes. “It’s only for a couple more days, anyway.” She curls up, resting her head on the older girl’s shoulder. “C’mon, Yoobin. Sit with us.” She stretches her hand out towards Yoobin. 

Yoobin sighs, not unpleasantly, and sits next to Minji. “This is nice,” she says, perching on the edge of the couch. “Just… Sitting like this.”

“Normal,” Minji says. She tilts her head back, rests it on the back of the couch. 

Gahyeon seems smaller than ever. “ _ Almost _ ,” she says. “I have a question.” Pops her head up so she’s looking directly at Minji. “Can I sleep in you guys’ room tonight? I just… Don’t feel safe, on my own anymore.” She rubs her arms, like she’s hugging herself. 

“I don’t see why not,” Yoobin says. “We have an extra bed now.”

Minji nods. “I’d be more comfortable if we all shared a room, anyway. I kinda got used to it in the hotel.” She seems to be about to say more, but her stomach cuts her off with a loud growl. “Oops. I didn’t eat breakfast.” 

“When are you  _ not _ hungry?” Gahyeon teases, poking her stomach. “Oh, I had an idea.” She grins. “Maybe we should order out. Celebrate, or something, that we’re home, that we made it this far.”

Yoobin frowns. “Shouldn’t we be saving our money?” she says, cocking an eyebrow. 

Minji waves her hand. “I think we can afford  _ one _ meal, Yoobin,” she says. She’s already fishing her phone out of her pocket. Yoobin can tell that she’s got no choice; she smiles softly and lets them do what they wish. 

Gahyeon picks up some clothing from her room and dumps it in a corner of Yoobin’s. The food doesn’t get there for a bit, and they feast on food from the youngest’s favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurant. At least, Gahyeon and Minji do; Yoobin’s got no appetite. It doesn’t go unnoticed, and she knows her friends are worried, but she can’t bring herself to eat more than a small bowl of rice. Stress has gotten the better of her. A cold feeling has sunken into her gut. 

She volunteers to clean the dishes, just like she used to do. There's a certain comfort to cleaning out the plastic containers, running the soapy water over the plates, but it's over too soon. There's not enough. She wipes off a fork and pauses, staring at the sink. It's too quiet. There's too few dishes. This isn't  _ right _ .

She presses her hands to her face and takes a deep breath. She needs a moment, but she doesn't think she can get it in here. The walls of the dorm press on her ribs and constrict her lungs; the unnatural silence weighs heavy in her ears. She had thought that coming home would empower her, make her willing to fight, and it has, sort of. A bit. A little. It's just made everything hurt more, in the end. 

She can hear the shower running at the other end of the hall - Gahyeon, probably, as she's the one who complained about her clothing the most. So Minji's in the room. 

Yoobin glances at the entryway, feels for the gun in her pocket. She shouldn't leave the room by herself. She doesn't know what's out there. But she's the most equipped to defend herself right now, and if she spends another minute trapped in this room, she'll vomit. 

So she sneaks out towards the door, eases it open, and slips into the night. 

It's pretty cool - a gentle breeze brushes against her skin. She steps onto the railing and wraps her hands around it, not flinching even when the dew settles into her palms. She stands there, breathing in the scent of wet pavement and the city, and just stares. Her thoughts have slowed to a crawl. 

_ Dead. They're dead. Four of your friends are dead.  _

She squeezes the railing. Tears threaten to fall; she no longer holds back. She dips her head, closes her eyes,  _ cries _ . And everything comes tumbling out at once - all that pent up fear and anger and  _ grief _ spills out and down her cheeks. She slumps, burying her face in her hands. It's cathartic, it's overwhelming, it's just what she needed. 

She sinks, almost to her knees. Fuck, she hasn't cried like this in… Years, maybe. She's come close in the last week, but Siyeon was there then and Siyeon kept her steady and calm and now Siyeon's not, Siyeon died right in  _ front of her _ , and then she's on her knees, her head pressed against the bars of the railing, and she's not really crying anymore, just shivering. She feels cold - not physically, but spiritually, emotionally. 

This isn't her fault. She knows that, except it  _ is _ . Except they could have gone and saved    
Handong. Except she and Siyeon  _ didn't _ need to go chase him down. Except she didn't even need to leave the  _ house _ at all. Her head is spinning - except, except, except - and she feels like she's drowning in a string of bad decisions-

Metal crashes out in the parking lot. Her head snaps up, clear in an instant. Her hand flies to her pocket. She blinks the tears from her eyes and stares. 

There's nothing there, but she doesn't relax. She just squints, scanning the parking lot like a hunter scanning for prey, pushes herself back to her feet slowly and gently. Her heart has leapt into her throat, and she wants to reach out and call, but she feels like that's a bad idea, so she doesn't. 

_ There _ . A shadow, standing by her car. It's round, hunchbacked. And it's definitely real. She's not hallucinating that. She can't be. 

It moves, back a bit, so it's more in shadow. 

She draws the gun halfway before she realizes how  _ stupid  _ she's being. Because it's probably just someone going to the wrong car - white cars are remarkably common, after all, because it  _ can't be him, right, how would he have gotten here? _

The smart thing to do would be walk away. 

She slides the gun in her pocket again and does just that. 

The door closes in front of her; she  _ swears _ she heard someone laugh. It's probably her imagination. She should sleep.

"Yoobin?" Minji asks, and she jumps. "What- Where did you go?"

Yoobin swallows and turns around slowly. "Just- I was on the porch," she says. Her voice is thick with mucus and tears. "I needed- I just needed a break."

The older girl nods. "Yes, I understand…" She crosses the room, stretching her hand out. "I just… When I couldn't find you, I couldn't help but worry…" 

Yoobin carefully takes her hand, runs her thumb across the back. "I know. Sorry. I just couldn't be in here anymore." She wonders if she should say anything about the shadow. 

"None of us can." Minji sighs and squeezes. "I don't think we can stay here long. I know… I don't think Gahyeon knew I could hear her, I mean. Just for our sake, I texted my grandma - she's out in the country - and she won't get back to us till tomorrow but it's at least a start,  _ right _ ? Better than sitting here, waiting and hoping he's not going to find us."

Yoobin nods. "Oh, yes. That's a good plan. If… Well, if I still talked to them outside of holidays, I would've volunteered-"

Minji puts her other hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. We have enough options, don't we?" She sounds so trusting and warm, especially compared to their fights of the day before. Yoobin worries she'll cry all over again. 

"We should go to bed," she says. "It's getting late." She drops her friend's hand, pushes past her towards the hallway.

Minji tilts her head. "You don't want to shower or anything?" she asks, chasing after her. 

Yoobin shrugs. "I can do that in the morning. I just want to sleep." She tiptoes down the hallway, towards their room - Gahyeon's already asleep within, judging from the gentle breathing - and eases up into her bunk. But sleep does not come so easy to her tonight, even when Minji shuts the door. Yoobin spends god-knows-how-long tossing and turning. 

When she finally falls asleep, she dreams of nothing at all, and she wakes up with shadows in the corner of her eyes.

"We're out of milk," Minji says the next morning. She's just dumped what little remained down the sink - the scent's reached the table.

Yoobin stares at her cup of cold black coffee and wonders if it's worth trying to drink. It's probably not. She takes a sip anyway, grimaces. 

"That's a problem," Gahyeon says. She picks at one of the threads of her fluffy pyjamas. "How are we supposed to get more?" 

Minji shrugs. "We all go together, I suppose. I'm not leaving anyone alone - and, well, I don't really want to go alone, either." 

Yoobin pushes her coffee into the center of the table to abandon it. "So, should we go now then?" she asks, half through a yawn. "Or do we want to go later?"

Gahyeon leans her head in her hand. "I'm pretty hungry now," she mumbles. "But I think I can last on, like, a bag of chips. Besides, we're not planning on staying here long anyway, right?" 

The eldest girl tosses the empty milk jug into the recycling bin, misses, and shrugs. "I don't think so. Any updates?"

"Nope. You know what Twitter's like." 

Yoobin lifts her hand. "If we don't know how long we'll be here, then the best move would be to go as soon as possible. Just to be safe.” She grimaces down at her coffee. “And I need actual food.”

Minji wrinkles her nose. “Yes, that didn’t look good at all.” She nods. “Alright, this… Sounds good to everyone, then?” A soft, tired, sort of smile flickers across her face. “We can go now?” 

“Let me get actual clothes on first,” Gahyeon says, rising to her feet. She bites back half of a yawn. “And maybe a snack.” 

She walks back off towards their room, leaving Minji and Yoobin alone in the kitchen. The elder girl has started to put away the clean dishes. “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asks, collecting the silverware in her hand. 

Yoobin chuckles drily. “Sort of,” she says. She picks up her coffee cup, carries it towards the sink. 

The shadow. She should tell Minji about the shadow. 

Minji talks the cup from her and dumps it down the drink. “Me either, honestly. I’ve been trying and trying but I just can’t stay asleep for more than an hour or two at a shot. I just want to get out of here, y’know? And be safe.”

Yoobin gets the distinct feeling that she’s not really involved in this conversation anymore. “Grandma hasn’t texted me back yet,” Minji’s saying, “so I’ll call her when we get back, but she’s not the best with technology.” She presses her hand to her cheek, sighs. “But it’ll be fine, right? It’ll be fine. She may not even be awake yet.” Steps away from the sink, presumably to go get ready herself. 

The shadow can wait. Minji seems to be on the verge of a breakdown, and more stress would just compound things. 

Minji offers to drive, and Yoobin lets her - she’s in no state to drive, what with her practically tripping over her own feet. Even so, she doesn’t let her exhaustion cloud her completely. Before they go, she counts out five bullets and loads the gun. Just in case. 

Not that she thinks anything’s going to happen, of course. But you can’t be too safe. 

The shadow is lurking in the back of her mind. She stuffs the gun in her pocket and doesn’t let Minji see it. 

“So, where should we go?” Gahyeon asks. She’s defaulted to the middle seat in the back; her head pokes in between the two seats. “Grocery store, corner store, farmer’s market? We have options.” 

She’s trying to make a joke. Yoobin smiles a bit. 

Minji adjusts the rearview mirror. “We aren’t driving  _ all  _ the way to the farmer’s market for half a gallon of milk,” she says. “Corner store’s probably the best bet.” She clicks her seatbelt and turns the key in the ignition. “Any objections?”

Yoobin shakes her head. “Sounds alright to me,” she says. Minji’s hand is moving towards the radio; Yoobin pushes it away. “That’s probably still broken. I don’t think your dad fixed that one.”

Minji purses her lips and hits the button anyway. A huge  _ crackle _ of static blasts through, making Gahyeon squeak. It’s impossible to make out anything remotely close to words. Yoobin turns it off again and cocks her eyebrow. “See?” she says.

Minji shrugs. “It was worth a  _ shot _ ,” she says. She tries to smile. 

The car lurches forward. Yoobin tilts her head against the window. For the first time in a while, she sees a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. It’s beautiful. She smiles. 

“Uh- Hm,” Minji says, sliding  _ way _ too far into the street before the car finally stops. “That’s- The brakes are acting up.”

“Glad we’re not going to the farmer’s market, then,” Gahyeon says. She’s leaning forward on the center console. 

The smile drops from Yoobin’s face. “That’s a new problem. It wasn’t like that before.” She looks at the steering wheel. “Let’s… Maybe we should walk.”

Minji shakes her head. Her knuckles are white. “No, this is fine,” she says. “I’ve- I’m sure it’s just a fluke.” She eases out onto the road, crawling by at ten below the speed limit. 

Yoobin bites her tongue. “Last night, when I went out, there was someone by the car,” she says. 

“What?” Minji asks. 

“You went out?” Gahyeon says. 

The car sails through a red light, but it’s obvious Minji is pushing the brakes down all the way. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks. 

“Because at the time I didn’t think it meant anything?” Yoobin waves her hand. “But I should have, and we shouldn’t be in this car-”

Gahyeon points, accidentally smacking Yoobin in the process. “Look out!” she shrieks. A red car is barreling towards them. 

Minji swerves; they narrowly avoid impact. “The brake line,” Yoobin whispers. “They cut the brake line.”

“ _ Who _ ?” Gahyeon asks. “Why-”

Minji kicks the brake pedal over and over and over, but nothing happens. “You know exactly who,” she says. Her voice shakes. 

They drive past the corner store. Gahyeon whimpers. 

“Okay,” Minji says. “This is not fine. This is  _ not okay _ .” The car skips over a pothole. “What are we supposed to do? We- We have to get out of the car but we can’t stop-” The panic is rising in her voice. 

Yoobin digs her fingers into the seat. They’re careening straight for the intersection. “I don’t know,” she says. They’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to-

Someone’s seatbelt clicks; Yoobin whirls around to see Gahyeon pulling at the lock on her door. “I dunno about you guys, but I’m gonna jump.” She’s shaking like a leaf. “Better chance doing that than- the intersection-”

She kicks her door open. Doesn’t move. Stares.

The wind whistles through the car.

“Are you crazy?” Minji says. “Jump? From a moving car?”

The light turns yellow, then red. Yoobin moves on instinct, undoes her seatbelt. “It’s that or get crushed in traffic,” she says. “We can lose the car. We can’t lose our lives.”

Minji shakes her head. “I-I don’t know,” she says, without tearing her eyes from the street just in front of them. 

“On three?” Gahyeon says. Yoobin grabs her door handle and nods. “One, two-”

She leaps on two, slams into the ground right in front of a small crowd of people. Instinctively, she curls her hands in front of her face. Concrete bites into her forehead and wrists and arms and stings, stings, stings, but it hurts significantly less than death would. She coughs, staggers to her feet, touches her pocket to make sure the gun is still there. 

“Are you crazy?” someone is saying. “What are you-” They reach for her arm. 

“There’s another one!” a woman shouts. Yoobin turns around just in time to see Gahyeon bounce onto the sidewalk. She sits up, blood trickling down her face, spits a piece of tooth out. Yoobin shoves the person grabbing her aside and sprints towards her friend. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. 

Gahyeon shakes her head, pulls herself up using Yoobin’s arm. “Where’s Minji?” she asks, just in time to hear the distinctive  _ crunch  _ of glass and metal hitting a building. Someone screams. Yoobin’s legs turn to jelly. 

“She didn’t jump,” she says, and she clings to Gahyeon’s arm to keep her next to her. 

Gahyeon presses a hand to her mouth. “N-No, she-” she stammers, fighting to get away from the older girl. 

Yoobin swallows. Her head is spinning from impact. That’s the least of their worries right now. “We have to get back to the dorm,” she says, and she’s not sure why - perhaps it’s a panic reaction, perhaps it’s just her gut talking, perhaps it’s a death wish - but it feels  _ right _ . “Now, Gahyeon.”

Her friend whimpers. “B-But Minji-”

“Are you okay?” a stranger asks, and there’s a hand on Yoobin’s shoulder. She jerks her head around. “Here, let me call the police-”

Yoobin pushes them away with more force than she means to. “There’s no time,” she hisses. 

And then she breaks into a run. She’s going to end this, one way or the other, and the first step is getting back to the dorm.


	19. i wanna make my murder look like a suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter for today, since we're coming close to the end
> 
> ignore the number of chapters changing, i am bad at math
> 
> title is from the song "cotard's solution {anatta/dukkha/anicca)" by will wood and the tapeworms bc the brainrot is real

She didn't jump. 

Gahyeon is standing in the middle of the street, blood trickling down her face in a thin line, ears ringing, and staring at the wrecked car in front of her, and Minji is nowhere to be found. 

"Oh, my god," she whispers, more to herself than anyone else; she's barely even aware that she's said the words out loud. She stumbles forward - people grab at her, to try and pull her back, probably, but she just shakes them off and continues towards the accident. She  _ knows _ that Minji's dead, but she  _ doesn't _ know, she won't know until she sees. 

"Kid," a man says, grabbing her shoulders. She's snapped back to reality in an instant. "Hey. What do you think you're doing?"

Gahyeon lifts a shaking hand in front of her, tries to push her way forward. "My friend's in there," she says. 

The man nods, looping his arm around her and tugging her to the side. “Yeah, I’m sure she is, kiddo,” he says. “It’s okay, someone’s coming, don’t worry.” He guides her to the sidewalk. His voice is soft and gentle. “Where’d your other friend go? The brunette?” 

“My other friend?” she echoes, and she wriggles free from him. There’s blood smeared on his shirt, but she can’t feel the wounds it’s coming from. “You mean Yoobin?” 

He squints at her. “I mean, yeah, sure, if that’s her name.” Folds his arms. “She  _ is _ your friend, right?” 

She hops up on her toes and scans the growing crowd around the accident, but Yoobin’s nowhere to be seen. “Where-” She steps away from the stranger and begins to push through the people. “Yoobin? Yoobin!” 

“Kid! It’s okay!” The man lunges forward, closes his fingers around her wrist. 

Gahyeon yelps and pulls away from him. “No!” she says. “No, no, I need- I need to find Yoobin-” Her breath is shallow in her chest. She feels like she’s in a fishbowl. She moves practically on autopilot, shoving people aside as she hurries in the direction she  _ think. _ her friend would go. 

Yoobin wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back to the apartment, right? If  _ he’s _ there, right?

The worst part is that Gahyeon can’t be sure anymore. She wipes her face and starts running on legs that feel like jelly. “Yoobin!” she calls. “Yoobin, wait!”

Up the road, a figure that’s probably Yoobin stops, turns around. “There you are!” she calls, bending over to catch her breath. “Come on, we have to-”

“No no no no no  _ no _ ,” Gahyeon says, so fast that it’s practically one word. “We are  _ not _ \- We  _ can’t _ \- Are you crazy?” She grabs Yoobin’s wrist. She’s shaking. “If  _ he _ cut the brake line, then  _ he’s _ there! And-”

Yoobin presses a finger to her lips. “Shh! Not so loud!” Tries to pull her hand out of Gahyeon’s vice-like grip. “Gahyeon. Think for a second.”

The younger girl cocks an eyebrow. “ _ Me _ think? Yoobin, we’re- we can’t go back there. We need to get to the police-”

“The police can’t help us from here.” Yoobin sighs. “Because he’ll just run again - he ran before, he’ll run now. But  _ we _ -” she gestures between the two of them- “can’t anymore. We tried to flee and look where it got us.” She looks down the road, towards where the crash site is.

Gahyeon furrows her brow. “I thought you didn’t want to kill him,” she says. “That’s what we agreed on, right? We don’t want to kill him.”

Yoobin drops her gaze. One of her hands is on her pocket. “You’re right. I don’t.” Her fingers slip in the pocket. “But I don’t think we have a choice anymore.”

“There’s  _ always _ a choice,” Gahyeon says. She steps back, crosses her arms. “There has to be. We don’t need to  _ kill _ him.” 

She taps her chin, trying to think. Her brain is sluggish from the fall; she can worry about a potential concussion later. She takes a few steps forward. Yoobin lags behind her. “What’s your plan?” she asks. It’s the type of question that  _ feels _ like it should be loaded, but she sounds genuinely curious. 

Gahyeon stops, sighs, fishes her phone out of her pocket. There’s a fat new crack right down the middle. “Well…” She unlocks her phone and checks Twitter optimistically, but there’s nothing there, to no one's shock. It still hurts a bit. “I… I don’t know. I wish…” She tilts her head. “Maybe, if we could  _ trap _ him, then we could call the police and he would have nowhere to run…” 

To be completely honest, she’s total spitballing here. She’s got no idea what they might do to facilitate that. But Yoobin seems to like it; her eyes widen. “That’s it!” she says suddenly. “You’re  _ right _ !” 

“I am?” Gahyeon squeaks. “Okay, how?” 

Yoobin paces ahead of her now. She doesn’t seem to have heard. “If we get back to the dorm, then make him think we’re there, we can hide with a neighbor until the police arrive…” she mutters, talking more to herself than her friend. “Right, we just have to time it properly. And then means we need to get back as soon as possible.”

Gahyeon looks over her shoulder; there’s flashing lights now, suggesting the imminent arrival of the police. She swallows. “What does that mean?” she asks. 

Yoobin glances back at her. Her eyes are hard, impassive. “It means we need to start running,” she says, immediately before doing just that. Gahyeon has to scramble to keep up. 

They head around to the back of the dorms to avoid attracting attention from anyone in there, sneaking around the dumpsters that Yoobin dove into just three days ago. Gahyeon almost feels like a spy. She slides around, her back pressed against the wall, just behind Yoobin, who hasn’t even bothered to hide the gun. 

“Do you think he’s here?” Gahyeon whispers as they inch around to the stairs. 

Yoobin shrugs. “Probably. I don’t think he expected any of us to survive that, and this is the best place to hide.” She hops up the stairs, and Gahyeon follows her. She curls her hand into her chest, peers over her friend’s shoulder. 

The door is just a  _ bit _ open. Just  _ slightly _ ajar. Gahyeon latches onto Yoobin’s hand. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Ah, shit,” Yoobin whispers. 

She shrugs Gahyeon off and kicks the door open. It slams, bounces off the wall, rattles. 

There’s no response from inside. The only sound is the shaking of the door on its hinges. Gahyeon slowly lets out a breath. Her hands are shaking. “So he’s not inside,” she says. 

" Or he’s waiting.” Yoobin picks her way inside, both her hands gripping the gun. Gahyeon follows, squints, looks around. 

She half expects to see Shiang stretched out on the couch, or leaning on the doorway, or something mocking like that, like a cartoon villain. But there’s no one there. There’s no sign of anyone being inside except for the door being slightly open. Somehow that makes her feel worse. 

She darts out from behind Yoobin and makes her way to the kitchen. “What-?” Yoobin asks, whirling around. “Where are you going?”

Gahyeon stumbles over her own foot. “Grabbing a knife!” she calls over her shoulder. She slides over the tiles, fumbles for the knife blocks, and pulls out a decently sized chef’s knife. She’s clenching it with white knuckles and holding it like a sword. “You know. Just in case.”

“In case what?” says a  _ new _ voice, a voice  _ neither  _ of them want to hear. Gahyeon turns around and points the blade at the doorway. Of course. Of  _ fucking _ course. 

Shiang leans in the doorway, one arm propped over a silver crutch, bandages poking out from under his sleeves. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. You knew I wouldn’t die so easily, right?” He cocks an eyebrow, but other than that, there is no emotion on his face. “Not with God on my side.”

“What do you want?” Gahyeon says, taking a step towards Yoobin. Her knife is held at arm’s length. “Why are you doing this?”

Shiang shrugs, closes his eyes. “It’s not what  _ I _ want. It’s what  _ God  _ wants. And who in their right mind would try to defy God?” He stumbles into the apartment. “I don’t have a choice here.”

One of his hands is in his pocket. Gahyeon’s eyes widen. 

Yoobin squeezes the trigger - the gunshot echoes around the room, rings in Gahyeon’s ears - the bullet buries itself in Shiang’s side, but he doesn’t even seem to flinch. He coughs. “Liar,” she says, her voice breathy. “Leave us alone.”

“There’s  _ always  _ a choice!” Gahyeon says. Her hands are shaking. “You didn’t  _ have  _ to-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiang mutters. He lifts his hand out of his pocket and fires the dully colored gun at her. “I didn’t have to do it this way, but it would have happened eventually. Fate is a tricky thing like that.”

The bullet sinks into Gahyeon’s thigh; she crumples, pressing her hand to the wound. It  _ burns _ , burns like nothing she’s ever felt before, and she screams. The knife clatters to the floor. “Y-You  _ shot _ me,” she whimpers. “Oh my god, oh my god.” 

Yoobin steps in front of her, as if to shield her. “Hide,” she hisses, cocking the gun. “And call someone.”

“They won’t be here in time,” Shiang drawls. “Don’t you know when time’s up?”

_ Bang _ . Another shot. “ _ Please _ shut up,” she says. She kicks the knife back so that it’s within Gahyeon’s reach; the younger girl picks it up and starts crawling backwards. Yoobin’s right - she needs to hide. But where can she go? She tries to push herself to her feet, winces from the pain radiating from the wound, starts to run down the hall, back towards the bedrooms. Every step hurts, burns like fire. She feels like she’s going to throw up. 

“You guys really are stupid,” Shiang mutters. “Come on, Gahyeon. Give up.” 

Gahyeon glances over her shoulder just in time to see Shiang moving to point the gun at her again. She ducks - the bullet lands in the wall above her head. 

“Fuck you!” she yells. Her knees buckle beneath her. She crawls the rest of the way towards the first door she sees, rolls into it - another gunshot; this one hits her ankle before she can pull it inside. She grits her teeth, a strangled squeal escaping her throat. She pulls herself against the wall, pulls her leg into her chest, tries to catch her breath. Her head spins. She presses the back of her head against the wall and takes a few deep breaths. 

Yoobin’s yelling something, but Gahyeon can barely pay attention to it. She looks down at her leg, then pulls her phone out. Her fingers are sticky with blood. It takes a few tries for her to dial the police. 

Another gunshot ringing in the silence. “There is- someone- in my house-” she hisses to the phone, as soon as the operator picks up. “And I th-think it’s the man on the news.” 

She decides it would be too suspicious if she said that it  _ is _ Shiang. She also leaves out the gun. “Pl-please, hurry,” she says. “I’m gonna  _ die _ -”

She’s cut off by steps, stomping, thumping steps down the hallway. Gahyeon squeaks; the phone slips from her hands. She peers around the doorway just in time to see Shiang’s crutch slam into Yoobin’s stomach. Her friend smacks into the wall, slumps down. Blood blooms from a wound on her abdomen and stains her shirt crimson. Gahyeon gasps and presses her hand to her mouth. 

“Y-Yoobin-” she whispers. She reaches for the knife without taking her eyes off the other girl. “Oh, my God-”

Shiang turns around and smiles - his teeth are stained red. “I told you,” he says. “Time’s up.” 

He limps into the room. Gahyeon wraps her fingers around the handle, pushes herself backwards. “I-” she stammers. She’s trying to say something, but she doesn’t know what she  _ can _ say. Her mind’s gone completely blank. There’s just fear, and anger, and  _ hatred _ . 

He smiles wider, but his eyes remain blank. “Something wrong, Gahyeon?” he asks, crouching down to her level. “Are you not prepared to meet your fate?” 

She backs up a bit more and raises the knife as a shield. Out of the corner of her eye, something flickers - Yoobin? Maybe? Gahyeon can’t tell. She looks up at her assailant. “ _ You _ …” she says. 

She lashes out, more to scare him off than actually hit. She hits his collarbone, but it’s only a scratch. It’s enough for him to stumble backwards though. Gahyeon uses this opportunity to push herself back up to her feet again. The bunk bed is her support. She swallows. “ _ You’re _ not going to kill me.”

Shiang wipes at the wound on his neck, tilts his head. “How suicidal of you,” he says. He lifts his gun and cocks it. 

_ Think, Gahyeon _ . She’s running out of time. Run forward? Stab him, shove him to the side, get Yoobin’s gun? No, he’s going to shoot. He’ll shoot if she doesn’t move, shoot no matter what she does. She’s out of options. 

A surprisingly pleasant breeze blows from the window and tickles the back of her neck. Right. The window’s open. Right. They’re not that far from the ground, and there’s a dumpster beneath her. Cushioning. She can jump. 

“Not suicidal,” she says. 

She swings forward and stabs at his shoulder. The knife sinks right under the bone; the blow knocks him off balance. She pauses, trying to think of something to say, then decides against it. This isn’t a movie. There’s no time to be witty. She just needs to jump. 

So she does. She pops herself up on the windowsill and throws herself out. 

Her foot catches on the windowsill. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shiang: don't fuck with me! i have the power of god AND anime on my side!


	20. fight, part two

_ I thought I was smarter than this _ , Yoobin thinks, as Shiang's crutch knocks the air from her lungs and sends her flying into the wall. She coughs once, and blood dribbles from her lips; oh, dammit, the bullet has hit her lungs. She's sort of whistling on the inhale. That's not good. 

But she's being ignored, for now. The  _ murderer _ \- there's no other word for him - stomps right past her and lurches into their room.  _ Good _ . She'll play dead. Then, when he's not expecting it, she'll shoot him and- 

She tenses. The gun. She's not holding the gun. She flutters her eyes open halfway - out of the corner of her eye, something metal glitters. It must have fallen from her hands when she fell. She tries to reach for it, freezes again. Can't move too much or she'll breathe too loudly. Can't breathe or she'll attract attention. 

"You're not going to kill me," Gahyeon is saying, and she sounds almost confident. Yoobin hopes this means she's got a plan, but she can't be too sure. At least the younger girl's keeping Shiang distracted. It should be enough, right?

"How suicidal of you," Shiang says. God, his voice makes Yoobin's ears hurt. She’s never wanted someone to be quiet more in her life. Her fingertips brush the edge of the gun. Just an inch further, just a  _ bit _ more. 

“Not  _ suicidal _ ,” Gahyeon says. 

_ Success _ . Yoobin pulls the gun into her. With her other hand, she wipes the blood from her lips. Shiang’s got his back turned to her; it should be a clean shot, and then he’s down. Her hands are shaking just a bit, but that shouldn’t be an issue, right? 

She lifts the gun, aims, goes to squeeze the trigger. 

And Gahyeon  _ screams _ . 

Something slams into the metal of the dumpster. 

Yoobin fires involuntarily. She watches in abject horror as the bullet hits his upper thigh and doesn’t even stop him in his slow trek towards the window.  _ Christ, he’s not even human _ , she thinks. She realizes, with a horrible sinking feeling in her chest, that she’s probably going to die here. 

“Well, that makes  _ my _ life easier,” he’s saying, leaning out the window, holding his gun towards the ceiling. He turns around slowly, slowly, as if taunting her, tilts his head. “But you’re still alive.”

Yoobin doesn’t think; she just shoots. The bullet goes wide and embeds into the wall next to his hip. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’s down to one bullet, or something like that. She’s lost track. Her head is spinning. 

He doesn’t react, just stares at her, impassive and cold. “You’re not giving up,” he says. There’s a blank smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes. 

She shrugs. “Are you proud?” she wheezes, despite the pain in her chest. “Of… this?” Lifts her hand, waves it vaguely. 

He examines his gun, pushing the magazine out. “I suppose I could have done better,” he says. “Made less of a mess, you know. But that’s not my fault, is it?” He clicks the magazine back into place, levels the weapon at Yoobin’s eyes. “Three out of seven isn’t that bad when you’re all fighting back like that.”

Yoobin says nothing. She doesn’t know what she  _ could _ say, at this point. She’s lost. That part’s obvious. No use struggling further. Might as well just let the black swirls overtake her vision; might as well just slip into the void that’s opening around her. 

“Say hi to God for me,” Shiang says. 

“Oh my  _ God _ ,” screams a new voice from the doorway. “Y-Yoobin? Is that you?” 

Yoobin’s eyes fly open. She snaps her head over to the side, towards the wide open doorway and her frightened neighbor standing within. Shuhua points with one hand, covers her mouth with the other. “Oh, my  _ God _ ! What-”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Shiang says. He doesn’t lift the gun from Yoobin’s head. “Leave, now.”

Shuhua shakes her head. It’s difficult to tell from here, but it  _ looks _ like she’s coming inside. “You’re gonna  _ kill _ her, oh my  _ God _ !” Her voice trembles. “Wh-Why-”

He sets his jaw. “I told you. This doesn’t concern you.” 

Yoobin wonders if it’s worth it to run. She might have enough strength. She wiggles her toes in her shoe. 

Her neighbor’s frozen. “You were on the news,” she says. “You- The car crash- You-” She stuffs her hand in her pocket and pulls her phone out. “This-”

Shiang points the gun at her hand. “Don’t interfere,” he spits. “This _doesn’t_ _concern_ you.”

“No!” Shuhua presses the phone to her ear. “You’re not killing anyone!” 

“Run!” Yoobin yells, as Shiang fires. Shuhua yelps, jumps away. The bullet only grazes her hand, thankfully, but her phone slips from her hands and hits the ground, shatters. Yoobin takes the opportunity to push herself towards the other girl. She leans forward, coughs blood. Shuhua rushes towards her and loops her arms under Yoobin’s shoulders.

Shiang curses under his breath; the gun clicks open again. “He’s out,” Yoobin whispers. She staggers to her feet with Shuhua’s help. Black spots swirl around her vision. “We need to run.”

The younger girl nods dazedly. “What’s going on?” she says, lurching back towards the front door. 

“N-no time to explain,” Yoobin says. She squeezes her left hand; she’s still holding the gun. “Did you see Gahyeon?” 

“ _ Dammit _ !” Shiang hisses. “Where did I-”

Yoobin wastes no time in getting out of there. She uses the nearby chair to support her and throws herself towards the doorway. She stumbles on the way out, slams into the railing of the stairs. Her breath is getting harder and harder to catch. She grips the railing as tightly as she can. 

Shuhua’s hands are on her back. “Yoobin,  _ please _ , you need help, let me-”

“There’s  _ no-”  _ Yoobin’s words are harsh, ragged gasps- “time- fuck.” She squeezes her eyes shut in the hopes that her vision will clear up. “Tell me, did you see Gahyeon?” 

“No- you have a gun? Why do you have a gun?” 

Yoobin sighs, nudges the younger girl off of her, and staggers towards the stairs. She needs to get to the back, to the dumpsters; she needs to see if Gahyeon’s okay. “L-Listen to me,” she says, ignoring Shuhua’s squeaks of protest. “You need to get back to your dorm and call the police. Forget about helping me now, just go.” Her hands scrape against the brick of the building supporting her, and brown blood smears as she walks and marks her path. “Okay?” 

Shuhua rushes towards her, but Yoobin just fights her off again. “But you’re  _ hurt _ . Come with me, I can get you patched up-”

Yoobin digs her fingers into the corner and shakes her head. It’s a fight to stay conscious at this point. “He’ll kill you, too,” she says. “Or he might- I don’t- I don’t know what he wants, I just don’t want to- you can’t die,  _ too _ , it’s… Just  _ go,  _ Shuhua. Leave me be and save yourself.” Take a hesitant step forward, down into the alleyway, down towards Gahyeon. “And put that son of a bitch in jail, for  _ all  _ of us.” 

There’s a heap lying on the ground just by the dumpster. It’s moving - barely moving, but moving - and Yoobin does her best to quicken her pace, but it’s too much work; she stumbles, drops to her knees, crawls the rest of the way towards the lump. Sure enough, it’s Gahyeon - there’s a massive gash on her head, matting her hair. Yoobin lifts her head and cradles her bloodstained cheek. There's barely any response, save for a slight catch in her breathing. "Oh, god," Yoobin whispers, and she strokes her cheek.

"Yoobin?" Gahyeon says. She flickers her eyes open. "How did…"

Yoobin shakes her head slowly. "Luck," she said.

Gahyeon gasps in a breath, closes her eyes again. "I fell," she says, leaning into Yoobin's touch. "Hit my head. C-Can't see. 'M dizzy." She lifts her hand slowly, stretches her hand up. "It hurts."

"I know," Yoobin says. "It's okay." She can't tell for sure, but it looks like the wound isn't  _ too  _ bad, like it  _ could _ be survivable. One of them could make it. One is better than none. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by Shuhua,  _ again _ . The younger girl screams and rushes forward. "Not you  _ too _ ," she stammers. She crouches next to the two of them, curls her fingers by her face. "You-"

"When'd you get here?" Gahyeon slurs. 

Yoobin fights to keep her eyes open. "Go. Run, Shuhua." She squeezes Gahyeon's cheek involuntarily. "Get help."

Shuhua doesn't move, just stands there, frozen. "H-Help," she echoes. "Help." She starts to walk backwards.

"Am I going to die?" Gahyeon asks. Her voice is a whimper, light and breathy. She stares at Yoobin with glassy doe eyes. 

Yoobin doesn’t know what to say. She shakes her head, moves her lips.

“You’ve finally accepted it,” Shiang says, and Shuhua screams. Yoobin snaps her head towards the parking lot and regrets it - black spots swim over her vision. He cocks his gun; it’s pointing at the two of them. “Yes, Gahyeon. You are-” he’s cut off by a fit of coughing- “ _ both _ going to die.”

Gahyeon stirs, rolling over and trying to sit up. She blinks, but doesn’t speak. 

He laughs mechanically, tauntingly. “Nothing to say, hm?” He steps forward. “Finally chosen to go quietly?”

“Who  _ are _ you?” Shuhua asks. Yoobin curses under her breath. “Why are you doing this?” 

Shiang stares at her, but doesn’t lift his aim from the two girls in front of him. “I could ask you the same thing,” he says. 

Gahyeon stretches her hand out towards Yoobin’s gun, which is lying, forgotten, next to them. Shuhua, meanwhile, is jutting her chin out and shaking like a leaf. “I’m- I’m a good person,” she says, folding her arms. “And I don’t want you to kill them.”

“Miss,” he says, unimpressed, “it’s too late for that. God’s declared that they are to die, so they must die. I have no idea who you are, no idea if you are important or not. The best thing you could do is run.” 

“I think I have a shot,” Gahyeon whispers. “Should I…?”

“Is that even a question?” Yoobin replies. 

Shuhua is standing off to the side now, her hands held out in front of her. “Back off,” she says. "I'm- I'm warning you!"

Shiang sighs, lowers the gun. "My  _ dear _ ," he says, "you do know this is worthless, right? Yoobin's moments away from bleeding to death, and Gahyeon's not doing much better. They are going to die, just as God has declared." His lips curl in a sneer. "What's your name, girl?"

Gahyeon closes her fingers around the gun and pulls it in, bumping it against Yoobin's knee. 

"Shuhua," says the younger girl. Her hands are balled into fists. "Yeh Shuhua."

"How many…?" Gahyeon whispers. 

Yoobin shrugs. She doesn't have the energy to speak; she can't remember, either. One, two, zero. Doesn't matter.  _ She's _ not going to make it. 

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," Shiang is saying. He lifts his gun, tilts his head, smiles. "Well, Yeh Shuhua, you have two options. I have no intention of killing you and there's nothing you can do short of throwing yourself in front of this gun that  _ could _ kill you. You have two choices, then. Join me, and kill them and take part in the power that awaits me, or run to the police, and tell them that you saw Du Shiang at the dormitories, and you watched him kill two women, and he let you go and told you to do this, and then lead them to the bodies. It won't matter. They can't catch me, and I will have the power I deserve, and God will return, and these seven souls will have helped make a better world-"

Yoobin coughs; Gahyeon fires the gun; Shiang drops to his knees, presses a hand to his side. Gahyeon tilts her head up to her friend and smiles. "Did it," she sings, and Yoobin can't help but smile, too, even if it's pointless, even if she's going to die no matter what at this point. 

Her mirth is short lived. The man's cool facade has been replaced with grotesque anger and hatred. "Oh, that's how it is," he hisses through gritted teeth. She gets the feeling that her last moments will not be pleasant. 

"How's that taste?" Gahyeon says. Her eyes are half shut, but she still pushes herself upright. "Your own- medicine- Ow." She winces, sinks back down into Yoobin's lap. 

Shiang sneers. "It will take more than  _ that _ to kill me, won't it,  _ Yoobin _ ?" But he doesn't stand up again; in fact, he's begun to crawl towards them, brandishing his own weapon as he does so. "You tried to shoot me, didn't you? You expected to kill me,  _ didn't you? _ " 

Yoobin wishes the black would just overtake her. 

It does not obey. She feels fingers curl into her hoodie; she half opens her eyes, and Shiang is staring right at her, his eyes wide with  _ something.  _ She doesn't speak, just kind of groans. "Yes, that's what I thought," he says. 

He knocks the gun against Gahyeon's skull with a crack. She slumps against Yoobin's legs. Yoobin hears the scrabble of footsteps against concrete - good, Shuhua's finally fled. She lets her eyes flutter shut. "Are you proud?" she whispers. "Of what you've done?"

Cold metal presses against the underside of her chin. "God is," Shiang says. "And that's all that matters."

A tired smile involuntarily creeps on her lips. "You're just a man," she says. "A fool, at that."

"Not for much longer," Shiang spits, and then he fires, and Yoobin, blissfully, feels nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ignore the chapter numbers changing again; im really bad at math   
> this chapter went through like six iterations, fun fact
> 
> almost done :)


	21. the end

Siyeon isn't sure what she was expecting from death, but this isn't it. 

She stands in the middle of a void, surrounded by three of her closest friends and absolutely nothing else. On all sides stretches a colorless abyss - not black or white or gray or brown or anything, just nothing. No sound hits her ears; she only knows she's walking because of the ground beneath her feet - not that there  _ is _ a ground beneath her feet. When she looks down, she sees nothing. 

She walks off to the side, away from her friends who remain huddled in one spot, and stretches her hand out in front of her. Maybe she was expecting a land of clouds, like television shows her heaven is. An angelic choir, perhaps, or her bedroom from childhood, or a beautiful garden. Or perhaps fire and smoke that burns her noncorporeal throat and makes her regret every mistake she's ever made in her too short life. Or nothingness, but  _ true  _ nothingness, nothingness she wouldn't be aware of. 

Instead, she's here, wherever  _ here _ is. And she's still not entirely convinced that it isn't hell, no matter what that  _ thing _ tries to tell her. She doesn't know what she'd have done to warrant this type of punishment, though. Cheat on an exam once or twice? Tell a lie? 

Kill someone?

She looks at her hands. Vaguely, she remembers that feeling, the way the blade bit into Chinmae's throat, the way the life ebbed from his body and leached out into the ground. Murder would certainly warrant an eternal punishment, but is it murder if it was self defense?

She curls her hands into fists, drops them to her side. If there's one thing eternity is good for, it's thinking about philosophy. 

_ You're not going to get anywhere, _ Yoohyeon says, from back where the others are.  _ Believe me, I've tried. You just come out again on the other side.  _

__ The other girl tosses a glance over her shoulder.  _ I know. I just can't sit still.  _

She watches Bora pop to her feet and run over to her. She's just as energetic in death as she was, well,  _ before _ .  _ Let's go nowhere together, then _ , she says.  _ I need to move around some, too.  _

_ Aren't we already there?  _ Siyeon asks, as Bora links their arms. 

The smaller girl shrugs.  _ Then we don't have far to go.  _

Despite Yoohyeon's words, Siyeon quickly realizes that the others are shrinking behind them. It feels, almost, like she and Bora are alone, except she knows she's not.  _ It  _ is always there; it could appear in front of them at any moment. She chooses to savor the silence for now.

_ Are you mad?  _ Bora asks, once their friends disappear completely from view. She doesn't make eye contact. 

Siyeon cocks an eyebrow.  _ At?  _ she asks. She stops walking. 

Bora swings her leg back and forth childishly.  _ Handong? Me? Everything? I dunno. You just seem tense.  _

_ I'm dead. What am I supposed to be?  _ She sweeps her arm around and takes in nothing at all.  _ This isn't heaven. At least, I hope it's not. _

__ Bora smiles.  _ Touche. Have you considered trying optimism? It might make things better.  _ She peels away from Siyeon's side, looks over her shoulder.  _ You missed it, earlier, but me and Handong and Yoohyeon, we threw it off its rhythm. Not for long, I don't think, but long enough. Course, we couldn't have done that if you hadn't killed that guy, whoever he was. But it's really shaken up because of us.  _ She taps her chin.  _ It makes me think that there's a way out.  _

__ Siyeon looks up, away from her friend.  _ Handong said I'd be here anyway, cause that rat bastard killed me. I don't know if that counts.  _

__ _ I've been thinking _ , Bora says. She walks on ahead of Siyeon.  _ I think Yoohyeon's got the same idea.  _

_ What?  _ Siyeon asks, running to catch up. 

__ Bora stops, wraps her arms around herself, shrugs.  _ I don't know if I want to tell you. I mean, I don't think you can help anyway _ . 

Siyeon narrows her eyes.  _ What's that supposed to mean? _

_ Don't worry about it.  _

She walks up next to her, puts her hand on Bora's shoulder.  _ You better not be doing anything stupid _ , she says, and she means it, but she's not sure what she can do at this point.

Bora cocks an eyebrow and shrugs her off.  _ Or what? You'll kill me?  _ She smiles.  _ Looks like someone beat you to it, Singnie.  _

_ Yeah. You.  _ Siyeon stretches her hand out for the other girl's. 

She obliges.  _ Last time I checked, I counted as  _ somebody,  _ right?  _

_ What are you planning, Bora?  _ Siyeon asks. 

Bora smiles, pressing a finger to Siyeon's nose, and doesn't answer the question. "I, too, am very interested in this," it says - its voice echoes in Siyeon's ears, impossibly close and miles away all at the same time. "Care to explain, Bora?"

The smile drops from Bora's face.  _ That would just ruin the surprise,  _ she says, pressing her lips into a thin line.  _ You'll find out, too _ .

"Oh, but, you see-" Siyeon feels fingernails dig into her shoulder; it looms over her side- "I've been growing terribly impatient. I would love to know what you're thinking."

_ You can't read her mind?  _ Siyeon tilts her head over her shoulder, trying to find the entity that apparently hasn't chosen to show itself. 

It makes a noise like it's clicking its tongue. "Alas, no," it says. "He didn't kill her, so she isn't mine. You, on the other hand, are. All of your secrets belong to me." What feels like a finger strokes her cheek; she shudders. 

_ Gross,  _ Bora says.  _ I think you can wait a bit longer, right?  _

"You gain nothing from hiding it from me."

_ This is funny, I don't know what you’re talking about.  _

Siyeon wriggles herself away from its fingernails, or at least she tries to. She can still feel the claws digging into her skin.  _ How long have you waited here?  _ she asks, scratching at her shoulder. There is nothing there, and yet there _is_. 

It sighs. “Far longer than your mortal brain can understand,” it says. “Far longer than I can even count.”

Bora nudges Siyeon’s side.  _ Oh, then you can definitely wait a bit longer.  _

It links an invisible hand with Siyeon’s, on the other side. “True. It won’t be much longer, anyway.” And it laughs; her stomach feels suddenly cold. 

_ I have another question.  _ She tries to free her fingers, but they are stuck fast.  _ What’s your name?  _

That just makes it laugh harder, and longer. “Oh, you mortals crack me  _ up _ !” it says. “Now why would I give you my name? What use do you have for that?” 

_ It’s inconvenient to keep referring to you as, well,  _ it _ ,  _ Siyeon says.  _ Why don’t you want to tell me?  _

__ It lets go, finally, of Siyeon’s hand, only to reform right in front of her. It smirks with Handong’s lips, squints two sets of eyes at her, cocks one of Yoohyeon’s eyebrows. “You know the rules, don’t you?” it says, reaching one of its hands up to touch Siyeon’s chin. “If I give you my name, I give you control.” It tilts the girl up to look at her - she is looking at her own face now, twisted into a cruel smile. “Perhaps I will let you know eventually, but for now-” it leans forward- “just remember this-” squeezes her cheek between two fingers- “you belong to  _ me _ , Lee Siyeon.”

She stands there, frozen, a chill creeping its way down her spine, before her brain kicks in and she swipes at its torso. Her hands goes right through it as if it were nothing but thin air.  _ Dammit _ , she hisses, and she curls her hand into her chest.  _ Did you see that?  _

Bora’s backed up a few steps; confusion crosses her face.  _ See what? You can see it? What does it look like?  _ She comes forward, stretching her hands toward Siyeon. 

Siyeon turns to look at it and finds herself staring at an identical twin of Bora, but just a bit too tall, with teeth a bit too sharp. She swallows, staggers backwards.  _ You _ , she says.  _ At least, now it does. _

__ It smiles. “You may want to return to your companions. It’d be best if you were all present for what is about to come.” 

And then it vanishes into thin air, and Siyeon shakes her head.  _ I don’t like the sounds of that _ , she says. 

Bora nods.  _ Yeah, me neither. But- _ she touches Siyeon’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort-  _ that’s gotta mean it’s almost over with, right?  _

Siyeon starts off in the direction she thinks she came in - not that it matters, if Yoohyeon’s to be believed.  _ Yeah _ . She walks with purpose that she doesn’t actually feel.  _ But I don’t know if that’s a good thing.  _

__ She spots three people where she left two. She quickens her pace. 

_ Yoobin! _ Bora shouts, and she rushes past Siyeon and towards the newcomer.  _ Oh, god dammit, now we’re  _ all _ screwed.  _ She throws herself at the younger girl. Siyeon’s shoulders slump.  _ How did- Well, I mean, what happened? _

Yoobin pats Bora’s back, wiggles her way free from her iron grip.  _ Where’s Minji?  _ she asks, craning her neck to look around the nothingness.  _ Didn’t she…  _

Yoohyeon shakes her head. She’s sitting next to Handong, her knees curled into her chest.  _ She’s not here yet. Why?  _

Yoobin’s eyes widen.  _ No, no, no, no _ . She curls into herself.  _ She got in a car crash. The car crumpled. Gahyeon and I watched it. There’s no way she could have survived that, no way, no way.  _ Shakes her head, squeezes her eyes shut. 

_ Then maybe she’ll survive!  _ Yoohyeon sits upright, nudging Handong’s head off of her shoulder.  _ Maybe she can make her way out and- and find him and kill him and end this for all.  _

__ Yoobin laughs drily.  _ She’s not gonna kill someone. I don’t think she could do it if she  _ tried _. If she manages to survive, she’ll probably run to the police. I hope she does, at this point.  _

__ “She won’t,” it says, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Two more to go.”

_ What- _

__ _ Long story _ , Handong mumbles. She isn’t making eye contact with anyone, just staring at the ground that isn’t there. Siyeon can easily imagine why. She should go over, comfort her. 

She doesn’t. She looks instead at it, folds her arms over her chest. Its face mirrors Yoobin’s now, then Handong’s, then her own. Siyeon doubts she’ll ever get used to that. 

“Cheer up, Yoobin,” it says. “It’s almost over now. You should have expected this. After all, fate demanded it. It was pointless to run.” 

Yoobin sets her jaw and tries to break free, but Siyeon knows that it’s futile already.  _ I don’t believe in fate _ , she says, staring at Siyeon as she does so. 

It smiles, all sharp teeth and saliva. “Correction. Didn’t. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” It jabs one of its fingers into her cheek. “After all, I’m not supposed to exist and here we are. You’ve supposed to cease existing and here you are. Oh, sure-” waves its hand airily- “you  _ could _ try to rationalize this as hallucinations of a dying brain or whatever you logical mortals try to say when faced with something beyond the scope of your limited comprehension. But here is a fun fact, Lee Yoobin. Just because you may not believe that something is happening, it does not change that it is happening.” 

Yoobin’s face is a cool, impossible to read mask. Siyeon tears her gaze away, crosses in front of Handong and Yoohyeon to stand by them.  _ Who are you?  _ Yoobin asks. 

"No one," it says, with the measured tone of someone who's said this a million times before, " _ yet _ . But with your help, perhaps I'll be something soon." It lets go of Yoobin and skitters off to the side. "One more to go."

Siyeon snaps her head to the side and sees who is unmistakably Gahyeon, just with a chunk missing from her head, and blood trickling down her cheek. Her eyes are glassy; then, they focus, and her head seals itself up, bit by bit.  _ Where am I?  _ she asks.  _ Why does my head hurt?  _

__ _ Minji's still alive?  _ Yoohyeon squeaks. 

__ It laughs. "Not for long. Don't get your hopes up." Its face has split into a massive smile. "But this could be better for you in the end, you know?" 

Yoobin shakes her head.  _ We're dead,  _ she says.  _ What could possibly be better?  _

__ _ Seven _ , Siyeon says suddenly. She's remembering something, from before she died.  _ Chinmae told us that there were seven of us _ . She tilts her head up, squinting.  _ Seven must be important, then.  _

__ It swivels its head around, nods, grins widely. It looks like Yoobin now. "Correct. My, aren't you a smart one. What a shame that you're already under my control. You'd make a fantastic partner in contract, but this will have to do."

Gahyeon looks wildly around the space, her gaze flicking from each of their souls to the devil standing now just off to the side of the group.  _ What do you mean? What's going on?  _ She creeps forward, curls her hands into her chest.  _ I died, right? Last thing I remember, he knocked me out, and then... _ Touches a hand to her head, where the wound had been a mere moment before.  _ And now I'm here, and all of you are, except Minji… _

__ Siyeon looks at Handong, who isn't moving.  _ I'm so sorry _ , she says, and she wraps her legs around her knees.  _ Yoobin, Gahyeon, this is all my fault, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't know what I was doing. _

__ The younger girl widens her eyes.  _ Huh? What are you talking about?  _ She rushes forward and crouches in front of the other girl.  _ What do you mean it's all your fault?  _ She puts her hand on Handong's shoulder, puts another hand on her cheek. Almost imperceptibly, Handong flinches away. 

Siyeon looks away - Bora has crossed over from the other side and set her hand on her shoulder, and they exchange a quick glance.  _ I'm so tired of this _ , Bora says. 

__ _ So am I _ , Yoohyeon says.  _ Well? _

__ Handong sighs, dropping her gaze to her knees.  _ Look, I was foolish, okay? I had just died, and then- it-  _ she waves her hand towards the devil smiling plaintively at the group-  _ tricked me, and told me I'd see my friends again, and now we're all dead and gone and  _ here _ , wherever here is.  _

__ Gahyeon softens, drops in front of her, shakes her head. _ Oh, god, Handong _ , she says.  _ You really did that, huh?  _

Handong laughs drily. She shrugs.  _ I was desperate _ , she says.  _ And I didn't want to believe that I was dead, I guess. And then I brought you all here by accident.  _ Squeezes her eyes shut.  _ I'm so sorry. I really am.  _

__ _ What did you think was going to happen?  _ Yoobin asks. She's the only one standing by herself, with her eyes trained on the devil.  _ It's… A demon, I guess. They're masters of trickery, like genies are.  _

__ "Not demon," it says, lifting a finger. "Devil. There is a difference, however subtle."

Handong says nothing, just curls deeper into herself. Gahyeon wraps her arms around her shoulders.  _ Well, we're waiting on one, right?  _ she says.  _ And then… It's over, right? _

__ _ Yeah, and we're all dead,  _ Bora says.  _ For various reasons.  _ She throws her hands in the air.  _ Guess we're just stuck here till we get sick of each other then, and then some. _

__ She drops so she's sitting next to Siyeon and puts her head on her shoulder. It just rolls its eyes (currently Yoohyeon's). "I'm sure you can be more creative than  _ that _ . You mortals never cease to amaze me." It trails off into a hum. 

Siyeon curls her fingers into fists, stares at them. She had previously thought that she was not capable of hatred; the past few weeks have changed that. Now, as she looks at the devil currently wearing some combination of all of their faces, she realizes that she hates this  _ thing _ more than even  _ him _ . It winks at her - "Come now. Hate's a strong word, isn't it?" it says - she looks away again. 

_ I'm dead because of you _ , she says.

Suddenly, it's leaning over her, a hand pressing into the top of her head. "If you want to play that game, you're dead because of  _ her _ ," it whispers; it jerks her head so she's looking at Handong. "I am simply the messenger."

_ Fuck off _ , Gahyeon says. She's angrier now than she was upon their last interaction, and she's glaring at  _ it _ \- she can see it too, Siyeon realizes.  _ You can't blame her.  _

__ It startles for a second, all four eyes widening in at the very least mild bemusement, before tilting its lips into a smile. "How naive," it says. "I will say it again - you mortals  _ never  _ cease to amaze me."

It turns around and vanishes, but Siyeon can feel its presence, heavy and cold. It's still here. It never leaves. This is its domain. They will never be free.

_ It's fine, Gahyeon _ , Handong is saying.  _ It's my fault. I'm the one who said anything in the first place and it's okay- _

__ The younger girl shakes her head.  _ No. It's not okay.  _

__ _ Are  _ you _ okay?  _ Yoohyeon asks, reaching her hand out towards her friend. 

_ Of course not! I'm dead! How are you all dealing with this? Oh, God… _ Gahyeon presses her hands to her face.

Yoohyeon sighs.  _ You get used to it eventually, I guess.  _

__ "Cheer up," it says. "It's over now, anyway."

Siyeon looks over in the direction that the others came from - where there was nothing before now stands an almost  _ relieved _ looking Minji, with hands pressed to her chest and eyes wide. She looks over at her friends; the blood trickling down her lips evaporates into thin air.  _ H-Hey!  _ she says, and she rushes over.  _ You're- You're all here! That's incredible. _

__ _ Minji!  _ Yoohyeon cries.  _ You- Oh, no, you're dead, too.  _ She isn't even cut off by the older girl throwing herself at her, and then she's being wrapped - along with Siyeon and a very uncomfortable looking Handong - in a hug that would be so tight it would hurt under normal circumstances. 

But these aren't normal circumstances.  _ So, what killed you?  _ Siyeon finds herself asking, patting Minji's shoulder. She isn't sure she wants to know, but she asks anyway, just out of curiosity.

Minji sighs.  _ It's a long story _ , she says.  _ The brake line of the car got cut, and then I couldn't get out, and it just… Crashed. But that didn't kill me right away, because that would be too easy. I just… Sat there for a while, and I remember… I remember…  _ She trails off, lifts her hands, clenches her fingers one by one into a tight fist.  _ And then I couldn't breathe. And then everything went dark, and now I'm here. Wherever here is. Speaking of which-  _ drops her hand and looks around-  _ where is here? We are dead, right?  _

__ Yoohyeon winces.  _ Yeah, we sure are.  _

"Congratulations, Handong," it says. "We've completed your contract. You have your friends again. How do you feel?" It swoops over, looms behind them; its fingers tap-tap-tap on her shoulders. Siyeon inches away from it. 

_ What was that?  _ Minji asks. She flinches backwards.  _ It sounds like me. _

__ Handong says nothing, just curls tighter into herself. It laughs. "Worry not, Kim Minji. Think of me as a friend, or perhaps a tool." Crouches down tighter, squeezes the girl's cheeks. "I'm why you're here today -  _ I _ brought you here, to fulfill Handong's desire to  _ see her friends again _ ." Laughs. "I helped her, as I can help you, Kim Minji. Or you, Kim Yoohyeon. Or even  _ you _ , Kim Bora. I've helped many of your kind. What is it you want most?"

_ You're the devil _ , Gahyeon says.  _ That's what you are.  _

A  _ devil _ , Yoohyeon corrects, while it says, "Soon to be."

Minji's face twists into a frown.  _ Lemme get this straight. Handong gave her soul to you in exchange for seeing us again.  _

"Her soul was already mine because of the contract between myself and Shiang," it says. "That was the deal - anything he killed would come to me, and in exchange I'd protect him and give him the power he desired." It sighs. "But he was a fool. He believed he had a choice, an easy way out, but what men fail to realize is that there are no shortcuts to power. One must suffer to get what they truly want." It peels itself away from Handong, strolls casually around the group, towards Yoobin. "It's a lesson that I failed to learn for quite some time. It's why I - and by extension, all of  _ you _ are here, now." Holds its hand out towards her, smiles widely - sharp teeth and saliva, sharp teeth and saliva. "Your death was a mistake, Handong. He was supposed to kill  _ Chinmae _ , his friend, his partner in crime. He was supposed to  _ suffer _ . And instead, he opted for the easy way out and killed you, someone who barely counts anymore as a  _ friend _ ." It shakes its head. "Thus, he broke the contract, and now gave you a chance, and now your contract has been fulfilled, and we are back to square one again." 

Siyeon stares at it and its flexing fingers. Yoobin meets its gaze, steadily. Her expression is impossible to read. Siyeon wonders how she can maintain that coolness.  _ What does a contract mean?  _ Bora asks suddenly, shooting her hand up in the air. 

Siyeon jumps, grabs her wrist.  _ What are you  _ thinking _?  _ she asks.  _ Are you crazy?  _

_ Siyeon, let go _ , Bora says.  _ I have an idea.  _

__ Siyeon just stares at her, eyes wide.  _ Wait, me too!  _ Yoohyeon says. She pushes herself to her feet.  _ What do I have to do? You told me that you couldn't make a deal with me  _ then _ , but what about  _ now _? Since you don't have any other contracts to deal with?  _ She cocks her head to one side, narrows her eyes. 

It turns away from Yoobin and claps two of its suddenly several hands. "I love the enthusiasm," it says. "One at a time, please. You first, Kim Yoohyeon, since you were so eager last time." 

Siyeon looks between Yoohyeon and Bora, then drops her gaze to Handong, who stares back in panic.  _ Don't! It's a trap _ , she says, but Yoohyeon doesn't appear to be listening. 

She juts her chin out.  _ I want to come back to life,  _ she says.  _ Can you do that for me?  _

__ It smiles. "It's quite easy to bring  _ one _ person back to life. Is that what you wish, Yoohyeon?"

_ No, no, no, wait.  _ She waves her hands.  _ Not just me. All of us.  _ Sweeps her arm around, in a gesture that captures all seven of them.  _ Back to life. Want their names, too? _

__ Siyeon watches the smile fall from its face. "Perhaps I spoke a bit too soon. I could bring  _ you _ back, Yoohyeon. I could bring Siyeon or Gahyeon or Handong back as well. But Bora, Minji, they'd be left here, all alone. Is that good enough?"

_ Then take my soul, too _ , Bora says.  _ And take me with them. I don't care, I'm not gonna use it.  _

__ _ You're  _ insane _ ,  _ Siyeon whispers. 

_ No, I'm angry. There's a difference.  _

__ Yoohyeon turns to Minji.  _ Are you joining us?  _ she asks.  _ This might be our only chance- _

__ Minji stands up, lifting her hand.  _ Hang on _ , she says.  _ What's the catch?  _ She cocks an eyebrow. 

It looks surprised at that; four eyes widen just a  _ bit _ . "Why, what do you mean? What catch?"

She folds her arms.  _ There's always a catch in a deal with the devil,  _ she says. 

_ A devil _ , Yoohyeon corrects. 

_ The supernatural.  _

Its lips purse. "I see," it says. Smiles wider, wider, wider - so many teeth. "I underestimated you. It's always more fun with the smart ones." 

Minji screws up her face in a sort of grimace.  _ Thank you, I think. I don't know how to feel about that. Now answer the question.  _

__ It takes its sweet time; Siyeon watches it saunter around, tapping its chin with one of its many hands. "The catch," it finally, finally says, "is that you will be more or less under my…  _ Guidance _ , shall we say. Much like he - and countless others before him - were. After all, your soul will belong to me." It flourishes its hand around - she realizes the futility of these gestures, since none of its target audience can actually  _ see _ it - and grins. "Of course you will be in control of your body, but I will always be there. And sometimes I will ask you to do things, and you have no choice but to do them, or else you will end up right back here." It comes to a halt right next to Siyeon and beams down at her; its smile has overtaken its face. "And I am not one for second chances."

That sentence feels like a threat. 

_ And what will those things be?  _ Minji asks. She sounds like she's seriously considering it. Siyeon wonders when she became surrounded by madwomen.  _ And will they have consequences? _

__ It shrugs. "Whatever I feel like at the time. Perhaps you tell someone about me, or write a book. Perhaps you kill, or rob, or cheat. It entirely depends upon my mood and my needs. You will find out in time." It cracks each knuckle, one by one by one. "What are you afraid of, Kim Minji? Afraid of getting caught? Spending your life in jail?"

The woman falters.  _ I had dreams, you know,  _ she says.  _ Before I died. I want to return to those.  _

__ It shakes its head. "Nothing will interfere with your desires," it says. "I can promise you that."

Handong makes a noise somewhat between a cry and a moan. Gahyeon pats her on the shoulders. 

"What do you say, Kim Minji, Kim Yoohyeon, Kim Bora?" It stretches out its hands, three of them, to shake. "Do you give me your souls in exchange for  _ all _ of your lives back?" 

Siyeon squeezes her eyes shut. 

__ _ I'm in,  _ Bora says. 

_ Me too,  _ says Yoohyeon. 

_ We have no other choice, do we?  _ Minji asks. 

Bright white light - actually white, stark and painful compared to the void she's grown accustomed to - flashes against Siyeon's eyelids, and she can barely open her eyes. When she does, she sees three woman shaking three hands and glowing, glowing, glowing. 

The light disappears, just like that, and it stands there, taller than all of them, black and faceless, and grins a smile that drips and oozes, and it says, "A pleasure doing business with you _. _ "

And then Siyeon realizes she is falling. They all are - she looks around and watches, six bodies, just like hers, falling, falling, falling into the void all around them… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go :)


	22. epilogue

Handong sits straight up in bed. 

For a brief moment, she panics, looking wildly around the room that she’s sitting in. She can’t remember where she is, doesn’t know how she got there. The last thing she remembers when she closes her eyes is… nothing. No black, no white, just nothing. 

On the other side of the room, Gahyeon snores, and Handong sinks back into the bed. Nightmare. She must have had a nightmare. Unsurprising - last night was remarkably stressful. Her phone is lying face down next to her, right besides her pillow. It’s finally,  _ finally _ quiet. 

She sighs, throws her hand over her forehead. Right. It’s slowly coming back to her now - Gahyeon had been drugged, and they had gone to the gas station, and she had run into her old friend, and he had not stopped texting her for hours, until she must have just passed out from exhaustion. She yawns. No wonder she’d had a nightmare; she’s rather rone to stress dreams, after all. 

Habitually, she checks her phone - four new texts. Three are from him; the other is from her father. She blinks, bleary eyed, at the photo of her cat he sent her and the caption that reads  _ Can’t wait to see you again!  _ with the baby face emoji. It’s almost enough to bring a smile to her face. 

Almost.  _ [ I’ll see you today, okay? I can’t wait to show you. You’ll love it. :D ]  _

She drops her phone back on the pillow and yawns again. It’s useless to try and go back to sleep. Might as well start her day. She needs to get her stuff together before the flight, anyway. She rolls out of bed, rubs her sleep-crusted eyes. Cold shower. She needs a nice, cold shower. 

She changes into her bathrobe and walks towards the bathroom. There’s no one else there, no noise from anywhere. She must be the first one awake. Naturally. She hasn’t had the best of nights, so why should she have the best of mornings?

As she twists the handle to turn on the water, she feels a cold hand trailing down her back. 

She jumps, snaps her head around, staggers backward on the cool tile.

There is no one there, nobody else in the bathroom, and yet there’s someone touching her shoulder and guiding her towards the shower stall. She covers her chest, swallows. “Who’s there?” she asks. “Hello?” 

She doesn’t get a response. Of course she doesn’t. There’s no one in here. She should just take her shower and not worry about it. 

She steps into the shower and lets the cool water wash over her. 

_ There’s nothing wrong. Everything will be fine. Just go through your day like normal, and everything will be  _ fine _.  _

__ She squirts some coconut shampoo onto her hands. Yeah, right. Everything will be just fine. She’s just unsettled from her nightmare. 

She takes a deep breath and starts to sing quietly. Deep breaths. Calm down. It’ll be okay. It’ll be fine. 

The peace of the shower is interrupted by someone clearing their throat. That’s all it takes for the panic to start again; Handong grabs the handle and has to bite back a scream. “It’s just me!” says Yoobin. “Relax."

She sighs, then breaks into a relieved laugh. "Oh, Yoobin- Oh, my god." She pokes her head out of the shower and covers her mouth with her hands. "My god, you scared me."

Yoobin startles, flinches, shakes her head slowly. "I thought you were asleep," she says. "Sorry, I'll let you… Clean up." She's already on her way out the door. 

Handong pulls her head back into the shower and takes a deep breath. "It's alright," she says, combing her fingers through her hair. "You can't see anything anyway." Pause, deep breath - why does she feel like this has happened before? "Sorry, I'll hurry up."

"Take your time!" Yoobin calls. The door clicks shut again. 

Handong eases her way out of the shower stall, covering her chest with her hands, and picks up her bathrobe. She's definitely done this before. 

That's silly. Of course she's done this before. She takes a shower every other morning. 

She pulls her bathrobe on, ties it around her waist. 

_ I should talk to Yoobin.  _

She pushes her way out of the bathroom, counting her breaths. Plastic crinkles in the common room; Yoobin's picking up some trash, putting it in a plastic bag. Handong walks out down the hallway, whistles. "Jesus. We really left a disaster, didn't we?" 

The younger girl jumps, shrugs, picks up a pair of plastic forks. "You expected anything else?" she says, a half smile creeping onto her face. 

Handong laughs and rolls her eyes. "Not particularly." She leans forward to help, but only gets her hand swatted away. 

"I got this," Yoobin says, tilting her head toward the couch - which is remarkably crumb free, all things considered. "Why don't you go sit down?"

Handong sighs. "Jesus, Yoobin." She rubs her hand with her face. "Don't be stubborn."

"You look like you need the rest." Yoobin sidesteps and bumps her towards the couch. "I'm amazed you're even awake right now." 

Handong sighs, but reluctantly obeys, stretching out on the couch. "Sorry, I just… Couldn't sleep." Leans on her hand, plays with the edge of her bathrobe. "I had too much going on…"

"Yes, I can imagine," Yoobin muses. She picks up a plastic bowl, jams it in the bag - it snaps. The crack rings through the silence and in Handong ears. "Of course, I don't think I know  _ all _ the details. But you don't need to talk now if you're uncomfortable."

_ We've had this conversation before.  _

Handong stares at Yoobin, studying the other's face, and searches for something. If she feels it, too, she's not showing it. Handong screws her face up and tears her gaze towards the black TV screen. "Actually, I would like to ask for advice." 

She waits for Yoobin to acknowledge her before continuing. "Okay." Sighs. "If…" Looks at her nails. "If... Well, okay. Say you ran into your best friend from high school again."

Yoobin nods. "I wouldn't want to, but go on." 

"Yes, I understand." Handong laughs, a reflexive chuckle. "Say you did, though." She sits up, curls her fingers into her knees. "And you were so excited to talk to them again. And like, they were so successful, and they were achieving their dreams, and you were so, so happy for them." Pauses, sighs. "But… But it just. Something's wrong. Does that make sense?" She shakes her head. 

"I see." Yoobin tosses the bag into the trash can and comes to sit down next to Handong, balling her hoodie up and setting it in her lap. "That's what happened?"

Handong nods."Basically. I got his number, or rather, he  _ gave  _ me his number without me asking. He seems determined to get us to hang out today, before my flight. It took most of last night to tell him off. And that's just weird, right? Like I'm not overreacting?" She looks away. "I mean, sure, it's been a couple of years, but I'm only going to be gone for two weeks. And yet, he was talking like he was going to die tomorrow. That's how intense this was." She shifts back and forth. "I'm worried, just a bit."

Yoobin has a faraway look in her eyes. "Maybe he  _ is _ ," she says. "There's always a chance."

Handong fidgets. "What do you mean?" she asks. "I mean, yeah. He could get hit by a car or something." She shakes her head. "Why did you… Never mind." 

"Forget that. I… Don't know why I said that." Yoobin sighs. "I just, well, you know what I mean."

Handong does, and she doesn't, at the same time. "Yeah, I guess," she mumbles. "What do you think I should do?" Tilts her head, runs the tie of the bathrobe between her fingers. "Don't get me wrong, I want to talk to him again, just not like this." 

Yoobin cocks an eyebrow. "When's your flight?" she asks. 

"Nine PM."

She leans forward and starts to get up. "Just tell him that you're busy today, no matter what he might say." She walks over towards the hall again. "You will be, anyway, so you're not lying." 

Handong shakes her head. "It's not that easy." Leans her head on her hand. "He's insistent. The only reason he's not texting me now is because he's asleep." Picks at her bathrobe, closes her eyes. "I'm almost scared to leave the house today."

She laughs, and Yoobin laughs too, and there's nothing funny about what she said at all. "Then don't," Yoobin says. She tucks her hoodie under her arm, combs her fingers through her hair. "Or at least, don't go alone. I wouldn't mind driving you anywhere."

Handong nods. "Actually, I may take you up on that," she says. "I need a spare charger. And I wouldn't mind a proper breakfast after last night's…  _ Feast _ ." Her lips quirk in a smile. 

"Shit," Yoobin says. "I'm down. Let me go clean up, at least. You need to rest." She points at the girl. "You need to take it easy."

Handong nods and leans back on her hand. "You don't gotta tell me twice," she starts to say, but she's cut off by the appearance of a rather disheveled looking Yoohyeon scrabbling her way down the hallway. She watches the girl careen her way past Yoobin, stumble over her own feet, and slam into the kitchen. "Good morning?" she offers, peering over to watch Yoohyeon throw the cabinet open. 

"I forgot I had a paper due last night-" coffee mug hits the countertop- "can't talk-" coffee being poured into the mug- "panicking!" Cabinet swings shut, revealing Yoohyeon's screwed up face as she chugs a bitter slug of straight black coffee. "Oh,  _ fuck _ , that's awful."

Handong covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god, Yoohyeon."

Minji wakes up at the bright and early hour of noon-thirty, which is still too early for her. She rolls over in her blanket, buries herself deeper into her mattress, and finds herself making eye contact with her roommate in the other bed. Their thoughts seem to be the same. “Morning,” she mumbles, with a sleepy little wave. 

Siyeon says nothing, just sort of grunts and wiggles onto her back. Minji smiles, yawns. “Same,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “Same.”

“I feel like I just ran a marathon or something,” her roommate says, her hand pressed against her forehead. “That was the least restful sleep I think I’ve  _ ever _ had, and that counts the finals week I just don’t remember at all.”

Minji laughs. “Caffeine induced amnesia, a blessing and a curse.” She tugs the blanket around her shoulders. “What’d you dream about? Sometimes a really active dream makes me feel less… Well, rested.”

Siyeon sort of shrugs. “I… Don’t remember,” she says. “Much, at least. I remember nothing, and then I was just falling in that nothing, and then… Nothing.” She punctuates her speech with vague gestures. “That doesn’t make any sense at all. Let me try again-”

“No, no,” Minji says, propping herself up on her elbow. “I got it. I think-” she yawns, combs her fingers through her hair- “I dreamt something similar. The nothingness, and the falling.” She blinks, trying to piece together what she can remember from her dream. “I feel like something happened before that, but I can’t remember what.”

Siyeon just stares at her. “That’s strange,” she says, after a very, very long pause. “That we had the same dream.”

Minji shrugs and pushes the blanket officially off of her. “Eh, it might just be stress. Last night wasn’t easy, to say the least.” She stretches; most of her joints snap, crackle, and pop. “But hey. We can’t change anything. Just gotta keep going.” She slides out of bed and leans from side to side. 

“Your dad’s a police officer, right?” Siyeon asks, tracking her with her eyes. “Couldn’t you talk to him about investigating the drugging?”

Minji tilts her head. “That would be a good idea,” she says. She taps her chin with her finger, then shakes her head. “But we won’t have to. Handong’s going to take care of it.” She walks towards her dresser and starts pulling out clothing. 

She tosses a t-shirt over her shoulder, hums to herself. “Handong’s gonna take care of  _ what _ ?” Siyeon asks. 

Minji turns around, like it’s  _ obvious _ what she’s talking about, because it  _ is.  _ Handong’s going to take care of it. She waves her hand. “You know. The incident.”

“How do  _ you _ know?”

She turns back around and fishes for a pair of jeans. “I don’t know, actually,” she says, more to herself than Siyeon. “I mean, I know, but I don’t know  _ how _ I know, or why, or what it  _ means _ …” She trails off, snags a pair of lilac socks, sighs. 

“You’re not making sense,” Siyeon says. She folds her arms. “Are you okay, Minji?”

The older girl nods. “Oh, yes, of course!” she chirps. “Just… Tired, is all. I’m still waking up. And I’m hungry.” She smiles, pats her stomach. 

Siyeon rolls her eyes, playfully. “Like that’s a surprise,” she says. “Let’s get dressed, so we can eat.” She kicks herself free from the blanket. 

“Maybe we could make something together,” Minji says, heading for the door. She grabs the handle and pulls it open. “For all of us. Like, as a treat.”

Siyeon wrinkles her nose. “Oh, god, no. You know I suck at cooking.” 

Minji lifts one of her shoulders in a half shrug. “We’ll just make pasta, or something easy like that. Not even you can screw that up, hm?”

She skips out into the hallway just as Siyeon says, “You’d be surprised, Minji.” And she laughs.

Bora’s in the bathroom, splashing water on her face, when Minji enters. “Good morning,” she chirps, with more energy than she feels. “You look dead.”

“My stomach hurts,” Bora says. “Couldn’t sleep because of it.”

Minji smiles. “Yeah, me neither,” she says. “I had a pretty strange dream, too.” She walks around, pulls out her toothbrush. “Me and Siyeon are going to make some brunch. You wanna help?”

Bora laughs. “You’re asking  _ me _ to help you cook? Maybe you need more sleep.” She pats her cheeks dry with a paper towel. “What’d you dream about? Because I had a… Weird dream, too.” 

Minji cocks an eyebrow, her toothbrush already in her mouth. “Mm?”

The other girl nods. “It was like I was falling. You know, when you’re about to fall asleep and then suddenly you feel like you’re falling, and then you jolt awake again? Like that. But I couldn’t wake up. I was just falling, and I wasn’t anywhere. But I couldn’t wake up, no matter what I did.” She quirks her lips into a smile. “I blame the barbecue chips for that one.”

Minji coughs, spitting her toothpaste into the sink and over the mirror. Bora flinches away. “Gross, dude.”

“No, no,” Minji says, wiping her mouth. “Sorry, I just- I had the same dream. And so did Siyeon.”

Bora lifts her eyebrows. “What? That’s crazy. Must have been something in the ramen. Or maybe we’ve all just spontaneously gone crazy. Or maybe…” Her face falls, and she suddenly sounds  _ very _ serious. “Maybe it’s a god.”

Like a rubber band snapping back to its shape, her smile snaps right back into her face. “Anyway, I’ll have to pass. Because I have  _ got _ to talk to Yoobin, about… You know.” She turns and heads for the doorway.

“Hang on!” Minji calls, her toothbrush half in her mouth. “What do you mean, maybe it’s a god?”

Bora tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“You said, maybe it’s a god, about the dream.”

She narrows her eyes. “I  _ did _ ?” she asks. “That’s… Weird. I don’t remember saying that. Huh.” Her voice hikes an octave. “Alright, cool! That was really fucking weird! I’m gonna go get changed now.” 

Before Minji can say anything, she disappears, and Minji is alone in the bathroom. She chooses not to think too hard about it, just for her own sake. 

She walks out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day, and heads for the kitchen. Handong is curled up on the couch, watching television with a bored look on her face. Siyeon is already standing in front of an open fridge. She picks up a jar of sauce. "We have… This?" she says, holding it up. "I guess we can start with this."

"Sounds like a plan," Minji says, swinging around the door. 

Siyeon laughs. "It really doesn't," she says. "Oh, vegetables. We can throw these in, I think?" She picks up a plastic bag of baby carrots, drops them on the counter. "Uh…"

They start working together, pulling together various food items and utensils in their attempt at spaghetti. It's an interesting looking meal, at that. Siyeon pours some sauce into a little pot and stirs it. Minji hums and starts cutting up the carrots. 

It's nice. It's normal. It feels good, compared to the chaos of the night before. 

She wonders if she should mention Bora's dream.

"Good morning, Gahyeon," Handong says from the kitchen. "How's your stomach?"

Gahyeon grumbles. "Don't ask. I'm so hungry. How'd you sleep?" 

Handong laughs. "I didn't. Not for long, at least. I had a weird dream, though."

Minji drops the knife. 

"Are you alright?" Siyeon asks, picking up her spoon. "You look- Oh,  _ shit- _ " 

She's cut off by the sauce in the pot  _ exploding _ , sending tomato sauce everywhere. Both girls screech, and Minji laughs so hard that she can't stand up straight. "Wh-What the hell was  _ that _ ?" Siyeon asks, tugging at her once white shirt. "I didn't know it could do that…?" She wipes at a stain, which only succeeds in making it significantly worse. "Oh, no, oh, no."

Minji giggles, reaches a shaking hand towards the stove, and turns the temperature down. "Okay, maybe that was  _ too  _ hot," she says. "Oh, god."

"What  _ are _ you doing?" Yoobin asks. Minji opens her mouth to answer, but realizes that she's talking to the girls in the common room.

"Making myself useful," Gahyeon says.

"So she says," Handong says.

Siyeon stirs the pot and sighs. "This better taste good," she mutters. "I am  _ suffering _ for this." 

Minji nudges her side, sending Siyeon staggering off - and more sauce flying. "I'm sure it'll taste delicious. We'll make the others clean it up, if they're eating it."

Siyeon nods. "That is a  _ fantastic _ idea."

Minji walks back around behind Siyeon and waves. "Want to help?" she calls to Yoobin, who's holding an old coffee up and sighing.

Yoobin comes back around, squints. "What're you doing?" she asks, scrutinizing the disaster that she's stumbled upon.

"Making a mess," Siyeon says. She heaves a sigh. 

Minji picks up the spoon and stirs the happily bubbling sauce. "It was  _ supposed _ to be pasta," she says. "It's kind of just... Food now."

Yoobin inches past them and dumps the coffee in the sink. "It sure smells like food," she says, rinsing the cup out and placing it on the drying rack. "What do you need?"

"A test dummy?" Siyeon asks. She turns the stove off. Her sleeve trails into the sauce, again. "Dammit!"

That's it. Minji breaks completely. She covers her mouth to keep from laughing; more sauce splatters, and now they're  _ both _ covered, and she's laughing even  _ harder _ . "Oh,  _ no _ ," she wails, smacking Siyeon's shoulder. 

"This was such a nice shirt," Siyeon says. She makes a noise between a laugh and a cry. Yoobin tries futilely to wipe the stain off, which only makes it worse. 

Minji shrugs. "It's a cooking shirt now!"

Siyeon glares at her, but good-naturedly. "We barely have any brunch now," she mutters, pulling the pot away from Minji. 

"We can just eat your shirt," Minji says, and she grins and wipes her face. It does absolutely nothing. "Jesus, this is a disaster."

Yoobin smiles, softly. "Hurricane Spaghetti," she says. "On the bright side, we have bleach  _ somewhere _ ."

Siyeon nods. "There's enough for three people," she says. Minji passes her some bowls, and she starts scooping some into the first bowl. "Here's for you, Yoobin." She passes one across to the other girl. "And-"

"Oh, actually," Yoobin shakes her head, "Handong and I are going to go out. You don't have to worry about us."

Siyeon tilts her head. "Oh, okay then," she says. "That's fine. So, maybe we can give some to Yoohyeon or- oh, hi, Bora."

Bora lifts her eyebrows and looks around in shock. "What are you  _ doing _ ?" she asks. "My god, it looks like something  _ exploded _ ."

"Want some?" Siyeon asks. 

Bora wrinkles her nose. "What  _ is _ it?" 

Minji swirls her bowl. "It's supposed to be pasta."

"I think I'm good for now," Bora says. "But you can save me some." She turns to Yoobin, taps her shoulder. "Hey, Yoobin-ah, we're out of  _ cinnamon _ ."

Minji and Siyeon make eye contact. 

__ _ This has happened before. _

__ "Ah, are we?" Yoobin says. 

Bora nods, stuffs her hands in her pockets. "Yeah. Think we could head out and get some, like, now, maybe?" 

Minji busies herself with scooping more brunch into her own bowl, but the more she looks at it, the least hungry she feels. "Handong and I were just about to go out," Yoobin says. 

"Wait!" Handong calls from the common area, and then she's in the kitchen, too, and everything feels too claustrophobic. "If this is about, you know, I wouldn't mind going, too. I have some questions as well. If you're okay with it, of course?"

Bora nods. "Oh, sure, sure. So, shall we go, then?"

Yoobin's already heading out the door. "Sure. I'll drive."

Minji waits for them all to be out of earshot before she whistles. "Haven't heard that in a while," she whispers.

Siyeon looks at her, tilts her head. "Are you sure? I could've sworn it was just yesterday."

"No, it was a couple of months ago," Minji says, but  _ she's _ not sure, and it  _ could _ have been yesterday, but it definitely wasn't. "Intervention on Yoohyeon's grades. Remember?"

Siyeon looks at the doorway, sighs, shrugs, shakes her head. "Right. I don't know what I'm talking about. Everything just blurs together, I guess- You're bleeding." She points at Minji's hand; Minji looks down at her hand. Sure enough, there's a thin cut on her palm, slowly oozing blood. Her breath catches in her throat. 

"So- When did that happen?" she breathes, looking at Siyeon hopelessly. "It- It must have been when I dropped the knife, but, that's…" 

She touches the wound. It's real blood, it's a real cut - there's a stain on her fingertips now. "You didn't notice…?" Siyeon says. "Doesn't it hurt?" 

Minji shakes her head slowly. "I don't feel anything at all," she says. 

Yoobin in the front seat, Bora in the passenger, Handong perched in the middle seat on the back. Yoobin clicks her seatbelt in, takes a deep breath. "It's the gun," she says. "You want to know about the gun."

"Um, yes, obviously," Bora says. "I was… You were expecting that, huh?"

She shrugs. "Not much else you'd want to talk about, I guess." She spins the wheel. "Where do you want to go, Handong?"

Handong leans forward. "I need a charging cord first of all. I guess we can start there. There's a nice food stand right by the corner shop, too."

Bora nods. "Yes, right. Love that place. But first…" She trails off, taps the glove compartment. 

Yoobin takes a deep breath. "It wasn't my idea," she says. "My mom, last break…"

And she explains everything, beginning to end, starting with her father and ending with the news. It feels nice, to open up and explain everything. 

It also feels like she's done this before, but she has no idea how that is possible. She hasn't gone to therapy - hasn't had the money. She's never told anyone, except for Minji and Siyeon, even  _ half _ of it. And Gahyeon is not in the car.

But what does Gahyeon have to do with it? She'd never tell Gahyeon. The younger girl's too sensitive, too soft. Yoobin can picture her face when she hears. That's why she's keeping it in so long; she can't bear the thought of the others hurting for her. 

"And it's because of that, that resemblance that I guess I have," she finishes, turning into the convenience store parking lot, "that I was given the gun in the first place. I  _ didn't _ want it. I want to end this cycle my mom thinks we're trapped in. We're not. She just  _ thinks _ so."

Handong shakes her head. "Maybe you are," she says quietly.

Yoobin looks at her. "What do you mean?" she asks, wary, concerned. 

"Is it just me, or is everyone acting weird today?" Bora says. 

Handong unbuckles her seatbelt. "I'm sure it'll be fine!" 

Yoobin shakes her head slowly, gets out of the car. "Wait for me!" Bora calls. 

They walk across the parking lot, towards the convenience store. The sky has gone gray and overcast. Yoobin wonders if it's going to rain. Probably. 

Once they get inside the tiny store, they split up and go their separate ways. Yoobin heads towards the back, where the cases of drinks are. She looks around, scanning the racks for something that catches her eye, before she selects a cold brew coffee. 

Bora comes besides her and nudges her side. "Look," she says, tilting her head towards the hot coffee machine where Handong is. "That's the guy we ran into last night, Handong's friend."

Yoobin narrows her eyes at him. He's tall, and his eyes are crinkled into a smile, and he's talking in rapid Chinese. "That's the guy Handong told me was blowing up his phone," she says. 

"Officer Shiang," Bora says. She picks up a lemonade from the case. 

They look at each other, make eye contact. 

"We should…" Yoobin whispers, starting to move towards her friend and Shiang. 

"Mhm," Bora says. They come up behind him. She taps him on the shoulder. "Good morning, officer!" Her voice is cheerful, high-pitched. Forced. 

Shiang turns around in surprise. "Ah, good morning, uh, miss," he says, in stilted Korean. "You're Handong's friend, Bora, correct?" He slides his gaze to Yoobin. "And you must be…"

"Lee Yoobin," Yoobin says, cool and crisp. She nods her head in a bow. "Interesting to see you here."

Shiang nods. His smile has yet to fade from his face. "One could consider it fate. You know, I've been meaning to show you something." He turns back to Handong, puts his hand up. 

Handong lifts her eyebrows. "Oh, yes, I think I know," she says. She lifts her hand and puts it on his wrist. "You mentioned  _ something _ last night. I'm interested."

Except that doesn't make any sense - Yoobin distinctly remembers Handong's discomfort with the whole situation. She tilts her head, points at him; Handong presses a finger to her lips. "That's great!" Shiang says. He suddenly sounds very excited. "I would be very glad to take you there right now-"

"On one condition," Handong says. She gestures around, picking up all three of her friends. "We  _ all _ go with you."

Yoobin and Bora exchange a look. 

Shiang shrinks away. "That's not what's supposed to happen," he says, in a voice that suggests that they weren't supposed to hear. 

Bora steps in front of him, sets her hand on his upper arm. "It's what God wants, right?" she says, sickly, sugary sweetness dripping from her tone. 

It  _ is _ what God wants. Bora's right. 

Yoobin doesn't know how she knows that. She doesn't know why she counters, stepping forward on the other side. "You can lead the way in your car, and we'll follow behind you," she says, and she doesn't know  _ why _ she says that. "How does that sound?"

Shiang forces the smile to stay on his face, but his eyes are hard and cold. "Sounds fantastic. It's cool that you're all interested." He backs away, squeezes between the two girls on his side. "Right. We can head out now, if that's alright with you."

"Just let us pay, and then we'll join you," Handong says. 

Shiang turns and bolts out of the shop. Bora slumps; her face falls into something akin to terror. "What the hell?" she squeaks. "God? What is he talking about?"

Handong curls her fingers into her chest. "What are  _ you _ talking about? You're the one that said it."

Yoobin touches her fingers to her throat. "I don't like this," she whispers. "I don't like this at all."

"I guess we just need to keep going," Handong says. She walks off towards the counter to pay for her supplies. 

Bora shakes her head. "How many bullets do you have?" she asks, scratching the back of her arm. 

Yoobin shrugs. "Should be full. Why?"

The older girl says nothing, just walks off to pay for her food as well. A cold feeling is brewing in Yoobin's chest.

Siyeon dabs Minji's hand with a paper towel. "That doesn't hurt?" she asks, holding an unopened Band-Aid in her teeth. 

Minji shakes her head. "Nope. Not at all." She sighs. "But I can move my hand just fine. Just doesn't hurt."

"I wonder if it would hurt anywhere else," Siyeon muses. She opens the Band-Aid, presses it to the cut. "But I wouldn't."

Minji laughs. "Lemme just cut my thumb off or something. See if that hurts. Good god, no." She pulls her hand away and flexes her fingers. "I don't know what's going on. That's so weird." She shrugs, as if nothing happened at all, and picks up her bowl. 

Siyeon can't help but roll her eyes. "You're like a dog. Always thinking of food." She looks down at her own portion. She isn't very hungry anymore. 

"We spent a solid half an hour on this,"Minji says. "I'm not letting it go to waste."

"Letting  _ what _ go to waste?" asks a tired sounding Yoohyeon. Siyeon leans back and sees the young girl stretched out on the couch, her eyes glazed over. "Can I have some?"

She shrugs. "Sure," she says, picking up a bowl and carrying it over to her. "You good?"

Yoohyeon blinks at her. "What's with your shirt?" she asks. "And no, I'm not. Just finished a paper. Looks… Interesting?" She sits up, pokes at the substance with her fork. "Why didn't you ask me for help?"

"Because you were doing a paper," Minji calls. She steps over a small sauce puddle and comes over to sit in the common room. "What was it on, anyway?"

Yoohyeon shrugs, stabs a piece of carrot rather aggressively. "Just like some English stories we'd read, old fairy tales. For extra credit, we could write about whatever we want, like, make a connection to something. And I just decided to make something up, y'know?" She laughs tiredly. "So I wrote about this demon that doesn't share its name, and like, wants to take over the world.  _ No _ idea where that one came from." Takes a bite, nods, hums. "Okay, this is good."

"Huh, I feel like I've heard that before," Siyeon says. 

Yoohyeon waves her fork. "It's a bit of a trope, I guess. Making deals with the devil. Hopefully she doesn't both looking it up, I don't need to like, get caught in this." She sighs. "Seriously, I'm barely passing that literature class right now." 

Minji pats her back soothingly. "If she asks questions, you could just continue lying," Siyeon suggests. "Be as vague as you can. What's it supposed to look like?"

"Like…" Yoohyeon stirs her lunch. "Well, I guess I could just say it doesn't look like anything, or that it looks like you. That's pretty scary. And it lives in the void? That's vague, too-"

Minji chokes on her food, making Yoohyeon squeak. "Are you okay?" she asks, reaching forward. 

"What did you dream about last night?" Minji asks. She grabs Yoohyeon's leg. "This is important."

Siyeon flinches away from her. "I don't really remember?" Yoohyeon says. Delicately, she pries each finger off her leg. "I remember falling, and then there was nothing surrounding me-"

"Oh my God," Minji says. "That makes four of us."

Siyeon tilts her head. "Four?" 

The older girl nods. "Bora, too. In the bathroom, she told me that she had the same dream. With the nothingness, and the falling, and that's all you can remember." She furrows her brow. "I don't know what it means."

Yoohyeon laughs, sort of panicky. "Okay, this is just  _ bizarre _ ," she says. "Do you think we  _ all _ had the same dream? Is that even possible? It shouldn't be, right? That's not how dreams work…"

"Bora said something about it being a god's doing."

Siyeon holds her hands up and shakes her head. "Okay, that's too far. There's no way that's true. I mean, I guess it could be, but… But that's ridiculous!" She walks away from the other two, taps her fingers against her chin. "Things like that just don't happen in real life. They can't. It's impossible." 

She turns around, searches each of their faces for some sign that this is a  _ joke _ , a prank, something like that, but all she sees is fear, the same fear that roils in the bottom of her stomach reflected on each of their faces. "Then what  _ is _ happening?" Yoohyeon asks. "Maybe we're just overthinking this."

Minji looks at her hand, runs her thumb over the band-aid. "Yeah, maybe," she says. "Or maybe…"

She trails off and doesn't finish her sentence, but Siyeon knows what she's thinking, somehow. "Maybe we've made a deal with the devil?" she says, and she smiles wrily. 

"I told you it was a trope," Yoohyeon says, and she laughs, but she doesn't look like she's feeling it. 

Siyeon goes to dump her bowl in the sink. She's not very hungry anymore at  _ all _ .

Bora's leg is bouncing. Every so often, it hits the glove compartment door, sets the gun rattling. It does nothing for her nerves. 

No one's said anything for the past five minutes. They've driven in an awkward silence down a nearly empty highway behind a police car and haven't said a word about what they're planning to do there or why they're even going through with this godforsaken plan in the first place, but she supposes that they all are thinking the same thing. They have to be. There's no reason why they wouldn't be, or why someone wouldn't have tried to wrestle the steering wheel away from Yoobin's white-knuckled grip and turn the damn car around.

Bora takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, digs her fingers into the seat. "We're going to kill him," she says, slowly, carefully. "That's what we're doing, right? That's why we're here? To kill him?"

Yoobin's mouth is set in a grim line. She says nothing. "Yes, we are," Handong says. "I guess."

"Okay." Bora turns around, squints at her friend. "We're gonna kill him.  _ Why _ ?" 

Handong just looks scared. "I don't know," she says. "I don't want to kill him. I don't want to kill anyone."

"Neither do I," Yoobin says. 

"Neither do I," Bora mutters. "But here we are. We have to. We haven't turned around. We're going to kill him."

Handong shakes her head. "I just… It feels like something bad's going to happen if we don't, like he'll try to kill us, or  _ worse _ ." She buries her face in her hands. "But what's worse than death, I don't know."

"Lots of things," Yoobin says. "Rape, I guess. Or torture. Or-"

Bora squeezes her eyes shut. "Just stop talking. Please." 

They fall back into silence. The police car ahead of them takes an exit onto a side road, and Yoobin follows. 

"See you all in hell, then," Bora says, and she laughs. It's not funny. That just makes her laugh harder. 

Yoobin laughs, too, a dry chuckle. "Be nice to know someone, eh?" she says. 

"Not hell. Some place else," Handong says. 

"Please stop killing the mood," Bora replies. 

They bounce and roll off the main road, onto a dirt road, where he stops. He pushes the door open and sticks his head out. "We have to walk from here!" he calls. "Might ruin the car that way." 

As one, the trio in the car unbuckle their seatbelts, push open their doors. "Pass me the gun," Yoobin says. 

Bora obeys mechanically, with shaking hands. "Let's just do this quickly. I want to go  _ home _ ." She hops out of the car. Her sneakers squelch in the mud. "And get so drunk that I don't remember this day."

"I second that," Handong says. She tugs her hoodie around her. "Do you think the rain will start soon?"

"Hopefully it'll wait until after this is done," Yoobin mutters. She's shoved the gun in her hip pocket. It sort of sticks out, but it's mostly concealed. Shiang's not likely to notice it. At least, Bora hopes he's not. Lord knows what he's actually thinking right now. 

Have they walked into a trap? She can't tell. 

They start walking, keeping a safe distance from him. He's talking, more rambling than anything else. The wind's begun to pick up; it blows his words away from them. All Bora can make out is occasionally "God," and "power," and a string of the most cliche words she can think of. She swallows. 

According to everyone else, she's been saying similar things all morning. Perhaps he's not even aware of what he's saying. Perhaps he's  _ innocent _ . Perhaps they are about to sacrifice an innocent man for some obscure reason that is buried deep within her subconscious and she stops walking. Her entire body shakes. "What are we doing?" she whispers. 

"God's will," Handong says. 

"God wouldn't want this."

"But  _ someone _ does." Handong sighs. "Are you okay, Bora?" Her expressions soften, back to that concerned, terror-tinged look that she's been wearing the whole time. "You look… Scared."

Bora smiles. "So do you." She steps forward, loops their arms together. "Here goes nothing."

They've stopped in front of a small, squat cottage. The windows are covered with a dark red cloth that ripples in the breeze; vines curl and twist up the sides of the structure. It looks old. Handong's breath catches in her throat. On Bora's other side, Yoobin tenses. "It's in here," Shiang says. He casts a glance over his shoulder, grinning widely. "In this building. Shall we?" 

"I've been here before," Handong says, seemingly without meaning too. She wiggles free from Bora's grip and stumbles forward. "With you. I know I have."

Shiang tilts his head. "What are you talking about, Handong?" he asks. "I haven't seen you in years, and we've never come  _ here _ . That's not possible." 

But Handong doesn't appear to be listening. She just keeps walking, up the steps, to the door. Her fingers delicately rest on the doorknob. "I've been here as well," Yoobin says. "In my dreams."

Bora looks between the two of them. "Are you crazy? What are you guys talking about?" She steps towards Yoobin, whose hand is on the gun, and touches her shoulder. "I've never seen this place in my life-"

"You never made it here," Yoobin says. "You died before you could. Don't you remember, Bora?" 

When they make eye contact, Yoobin's eyes are wide, and she looks equal parts terrified and  _ fucking pissed _ . Bora flinches away. "Died? What are you talking about?" 

"I second that. What are either of you talking about?" Shiang turns around, glances between both of them. "I've never seen  _ you _ -" he points at Yoobin- "and I've never taken you anywhere, and…" 

He trails off, his eyes falling on the gun in Yoobin's hands. "So, you've heard him, too," he says, and his face splits into a wild grin. "You knew what I was going to show you already."

"Clearly, it's abandoned you," Bora finds herself saying, though she doesn't know where the words are coming from. 

Yoobin fires. 

A clean shot, right between the eyes. Shiang staggers backward, slips on the grass, falls. He's dead shortly after. Bora lets out a massive sigh; Yoobin drops the gun. 

The door squeaks, and when they look up, Handong's disappeared into the house. "Wait!" Bora shouts. "We should get out of here."

She starts running, hopping over the corpse as she does so, and runs into the house after her. Handong is ahead of her, walking down a surprisingly cozy looking house, with a gold runner on the floor and a set of plush chairs in the room to her right. Handong has started to walk up the stairs, her movements mechanical, like she's being puppeted. Bora stops to take in the house. It's too nice, too lived in. This was his home. He wanted to show them his home. That was all. 

Except he knew what it was. 

Bora doesn't know what  _ it _ is. 

She hurries up the stairs, chasing after the quickly disappearing image of her friends. "Handong," she calls. "Where are you  _ going _ ?" 

Robotically, Handong pushes every door open. A bedroom, red rug on the floor, pictures on the walls. Another bedroom, a desk, an unmade bed. A bathroom. An altar with a dog skeleton stuffed full of flowers, on a table under a large, ornate hunting knife. 

It is here that Handong stops, with Bora right next to her. "What…?" Bora asks. She thinks she's going to be sick. 

Handong steps forward, touches one of the flowers. "I died here," she whispers. "In this room. At his hands." She looks up at the knife, brushes her fingers against it. "By this blade."

Bora shakes her head. "You clearly didn't," she says. "You're alive, right now. See? You're breathing." She comes forward, grabs Handong's wrist. "You have a pulse…" 

Except she doesn't.

Bora squeaks and drops her hand. Handong shakes her head; tears are in her eyes. "We need to get out of here," she says. "Now. Before something bad happens."

Bora nods, numbly. She presses her fingers to her neck.  _ She _ doesn't have a pulse. 

"We're not telling anyone what happened," she says, as they walk stiffly back out of the house. 

Handong says nothing, just nods. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that we are finished. thank you so much for all the support and thank you SO much for enjoying; i seriously wasn't kidding when i said i didn't expect anyone to read this, so to have 1400 hits is fucking insane. i seriously can't thank you enough for literally everything. 
> 
> :"))))


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